Desert Garden
by pixeled
Summary: Angeal/Zack, Zack/Cloud, eventual Cloud/Tifa. YAOI. Fate brought them together and fate would pull them apart. If a flower can grow in the city of Midgar, then the memory of their lives and how they loved would live on as if a desert garden.
1. Chapter 1

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_The stars are far away_

_I can see them in my eyes_

_We watch them fade away_

_Like the moments of my life_

_xxx_

_Part One_

_xxx_

"Sir?"

Zack's back was shaking a little as he flung himself down onto the floor surrounding the flowers on the glass balcony, touching the buster sword to his forehead. It had been two years, but all he needed to do was trace an ungloved finger over his jaw to feel the wound open up again.

"Huh?" Zack's back straightened and he wiped at his eyes. He looked up at the sky and smiled at the shaft of light that broke through the gray clouds.

"Are you all right, sir?" The voice called again. Zack looked over his shoulder and laughed easily, stretching out so that he could rock forward and propel himself onto his feet.

"I'm all right, Cloud. These flowers, they just remind me of someone I knew once." Zack touched them gently and bent to water them. When he was done he moved to a potted sprout and touched it reverently before handing it over to Cloud.

"You don't see flowers in Midgar much, sir," Cloud said, tilting his head as he took the clay pot from Zack's hands, wondering at it. Zack smiled, and Cloud scratched his hair. It wasn't often that he saw that look in the 1st Class' eyes. There was a touch of sadness there.

"No," Zack said slowly, taking a few pensive steps and then turning on his heel quickly to face Cloud, his arms moving up over his head with a deep sigh. "Two important people in my life once told me, separately, that the most important thing to do in your life is to protect what you care about most, to embrace your dreams and let them grow, like these flowers. If you can make a flower grow in Midgar . . ." Zack's voice trailed off as his eyes hardened. "Do you know what it means to be in SOLDIER, Cloud?"

"Honor, sir?" Cloud guessed.

"Yeah," Zack said, clapping a gloved hand over Cloud's shoulder. "You wanna be in SOLDIER, right?"

"Yes, sir," Cloud said meekly. He didn't know if he had what it took. He was having such a hard time building his strength.

"Then, hey, protect that with everything you've got. It symbolizes everything you'd ever want to fight for. Being in SOLDIER isn't about physical strength as much as it's about the strength you've got in here," Zack smiled, pounding his fist against his chest. "Remember that, Cloud."

"Y-yes, sir."

"Now, c'mon, let's go get something to eat. I'm starving."

Zack gave one last look at the flowers and smiled enigmatically. He returned his Buster sword to his back and then he rushed out the door.

"Hey!" Cloud shouted, running after Zack with the pot nestled between his arms awkwardly. The thought of eating dinner with a flowerpot by his tray was embarrassing, but it was all right as long as Zack was there, wasn't it?

xxx

"Can I ask you a question, sir?" Cloud asked. Zack had insisted on walking him back to the cadet dorm, and although Zack was his usual cheery self at dinner, Cloud still couldn't shake that sad look he had seen in those mako eyes.

Zack was looking up at the darkening sky and squinting, trying to make out stars, but it was no use on Shinra grounds. The streetlights were too bright and the sky too thick with exhaust. Zack was feeling an intense nostalgia for Gongaga, where the sky was big and bright and you could see all the stars. Whenever he looked up into the sky in Gongaga, it seemed so big, and he seemed so small.

Finally, he turned to Cloud and nodded. "You don't have to ask permission, you know. And you don't have to call me sir."

"Who were you thinking of earlier?" Cloud didn't want to pry, but the 1st Class had done so much for him, made him feel so comfortable and easy and . . . protected . . . that he wanted to help in any way he could, and if Zack was feeling sad, he wanted to try and comfort him too. For a few moments Zack contemplated something, and Cloud wondered if he was going to answer when the taller man flung an arm around Cloud and wrestled him underneath an armpit, his other hand ruffling the cadet's hair. Cloud struggled to break away and finally squirmed his way away from Zack, face red. "No, really! What made you so sad? You were crying, weren't you?"

Zack shrugged and stared hard up at the sky before he could meet Cloud's eyes. They had both resumed walking, though their steps were slow.

"He was the guy who taught me everything I know."

"And now you're teaching me everything he taught you?" Cloud asked carefully.

"Yeah," Zack smiled sadly, swinging his arms. "I guess you could say . . . I'm his living . . . legacy."

"So he was in SOLDIER?"

"Yup," Zack said softly, "One of the best."

"How did he . . . ?" As soon as the first word left Cloud's lips, he knew he shouldn't have gone that far. Zack visibly put his guard up, and Cloud feared it would be a long time before Zack shared so much again, if he ever would. Despite Zack's friendly nature and easy smiles, he didn't share too much about himself.

"You've got a test tomorrow, don't you, Cloud?" Zack asked after they had walked on in silence for a few minutes.

"Huh?" Cloud was so startled when Zack spoke he nearly jumped. He wasn't used to walking in silence with his mentor and the silence between them felt heavy. Cloud was uneasy and jumpy.

"We're here," Zack said, pointing at the building.

"Oh," Cloud said sheepishly, and he was about to turn and walk inside when Zack grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a strong hug. He felt Zack's chin rest in his hair.

"You're a good kid, Cloud. You remind me of myself when I was your age." Cloud was about to point out that Zack wasn't much older than him, but then Zack was hugging him tighter, sighing deeply. The flowerpot was between them, and Cloud felt strange as he held it there. "I'll tell you about him soon, okay?"

"Okay," Cloud said softly, moving away slightly to put the flowerpot down gently before he returned to put his smaller arms around his mentor. He didn't want Zack to let go.

"Good luck on your test," Zack said softly when he let go of Cloud and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," Cloud said numbly as he bent to retrieve the flowerpot.

"Rememeber to take care of that, yeah?" Zack flicked his chin at the pot nestled protectively in Cloud's arms.

"Always, sir. I wouldn't let you down." And with that, Cloud was gone behind the door. Zack kicked at a pebble and looked up at the sky again, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. No matter where he was, he could feel that kind presence looking down over him, and as heartbreaking as it was at times, it felt good.

"I hope you approve of him," Zack whispered at the dark sky. "Because I like him a lot. No one could ever replace you, but . . . I think he needs me. Kind of like . . . well, like how I needed you." Zack's shoulders slumped and he took in a deep and shaky breath.

"I never told you . . . I killed my first flower. I hope Cloud keeps his alive." He stared at his boots for a few moments, and then he struggled to fight back a few tears.

"I miss you . . . Angeal . . ."

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_Strange how the houses look_

_Exactly all the same_

_And you're just a slave like me_

_At least I know it's true_

xxx

Part Two

xxx

_"Zack," Angeal sighed. Little could make him lose his patience, but Zack was definitely good at challenging the notion that nothing—and no one—could break the steely man's resolve. "What exactly are you doing?"_

_"Uhm," Zack responded rather eloquently, dropping his pen and holding his notebook close to his chest. "Nothing? Taking notes? Being focused?" Here the boy saluted and tossed his mentor a crooked grin. Annoyed, Angeal made his way over to the 3rd Class and yanked the notebook out of his hands. Zack had been responding to his mentor's speech with a flurry of "mmhmm" and "uh-huh" for a full minute before Angeal properly realized that not a single word was getting into the teen's thick skull. _

_The 1st Class looked down at the page Zack had been pretending to take notes on and was greeted with a caricaturization of him with wild hair and eyes. The bubble floating away from his mouth read: "All work and no play makes Angeal make another speech!" When he lifted his eyes back up to stare into Zack's, another characteristic crooked smile greeted him. _

_"You," Angeal sighed heavily as he tossed the notebook down onto his desk, "are impossible."_

_"Well, I think it looks just like you!"_

_"Don't test me, Zack," Angeal said as he brought his hand up to knead at his forehead. _

_"So serious," Zack chided._

Cloud blinked, stopping to stare at Zack dumbly as the 1st Class SOLDIER broke into a fit of hysterics.

"What the . . . why did you tell me that story?" Cloud asked.

"There is no story not worth hearing," Zack smirked enigmatically as he wiped the tears of laughter out of his eyes and walked off. Cloud stared dumbly for a moment before he ran after Zack to catch up.

"Okay, okay, so I'm not that great at telling meaningful stories," Zack said, "but that was one of the first few lessons I had with Angeal."

"Were you always that aggravating with him?" Cloud asked. He was holding his helmet propped on his hip as he walked along the Shinra grounds with Zack. He had a few minutes to spare before he had to go train with the other cadets and so he had called Zack to come meet him. Zack usually did. Aside from the occasional Anti-Shinra investigative assignment, the 1st Class had an unusual amount of free time these days. It was why he had agreed to mentor Cloud—he hated to feel useless and unwanted.

"I'm afraid so," Zack laughed. Today the memories of his mentor were good ones despite the still-swirling mass of confusion that had shrouded his death and the future of Shinra. Zack was the kind of guy who liked to remember only the good memories and didn't like to think too far ahead. Angeal had always scolded him about that, but Zack knew it was coming in handy these days with all the secrets kept behind closed doors. If he thought too much about everything, he knew he would never be able to go on. Still, he was always missing Angeal's touch and the simple way he could make him forget everything but his proximity, his rare smiles. Zack wanted to be that way for Cloud—make everything better. Troubling times were on the horizon and Zack wanted to make his free time count as much as possible. Going at Cloud's speed just wasn't going to cut it—the 1st Class would just have to help him along.

"Hey Cloud, do you remember what I said when you asked me over here?" Zack asked, hands fumbling in his pockets for the item he was looking for.

"Oh," Cloud said, going to the trouble of trying to act surprised. "You wanted to give me something, right?" He was doing a horrible job of repressing a smile and as soon as Zack found the copy he had made of his keycard and looked up into those smiling lips, he felt himself smiling back.

"Here." Zack took Cloud's hand and pulled it forward gently, his hand lingering as he pressed the keycard into the smaller boy's palm. "This card will give you access to my building, my apartment, and I even gave you access to the Training Room in the Shinra building." He looked into Cloud's soft blue eyes meaningfully, waiting for the reaction. He didn't have to wait long. A brilliant smile formed across the boy's face and his cheeks—usually pale—had some color to them.

"Sir, isn't the Training Room only for 3rd Classes and above?" His eyes were huge with glee.

"Yeah, but I was talking to your instructor and he tells me it'd probably be good for you. Boost your morale. Know what I'm saying?" Zack didn't bother to leave a pause for Cloud to answer. "Yeah, I guess you might learn some stuff in those classes of yours, but you learn _more_ from actually doing stuff rather than _talking_ about it." At this, Cloud gave Zack a hasty and awkward hug. His eyes, huge with appreciation, glowed happily and his cheeks darkened another shade when Zack smiled and put his arm around Cloud's shoulders. He didn't know what to say. Zack had been the only real bright spot since he had come to Shinra to chase his childhood dream of becoming a hero like The Great Sephiroth.

"Thank you, sir! I won't forget your kindness." Zack couldn't help but feel a bit hurt that Cloud was still calling him sir.

"Hey, listen Cloud," Zack started to say, ruffling at Cloud's golden hair, "I'm going to start ordering you to call me Zack if you don't chill with the whole 'sir' thing, okay?" His eyes softened to a light turquoise, and he hoped Cloud could read the fondness there, because he was very fond of Cloud and though he was a 1st Class and Cloud was a cadet, he wanted their friendship to be strong—it simply wouldn't do to have Cloud constantly acknowledging his higher rank all the time.

The soft look in Zack's handsome face made Cloud blush a little more. There was tenderness there, and perhaps something else. He realized he was staring too long and broke his gaze. He told himself that he had been caught up in those eyes because they were infused with mako and thus the mark of SOLDIER, but his pounding heart betrayed him. No SOLDIER could have made Cloud feel this way—not even Sephiroth whose eyes were cold and not entirely human from afar. It was because Zack was so nice and so . . .

"So Cloud," Zack said, breaking the boy's train of thought. "I also want to tell you that you can come and visit me anytime. Just call me up, see if I'm off duty, and swing by. And I do mean anytime. I'm here for you." Angeal had said those words when he had made a copy of his keycard for Zack. _"I'm here for you." _At the time, Zack had been frustrated with all the walls that Angeal had put up, but giving Zack a keycard? That was like a window into his world. It was the tiny thing that had changed their relationship. It showed that Angeal had been willing to give Zack parts of him. He hoped it would mean the same thing for Cloud, that Zack was willing to offer him more. It was an offering of trust—trust that Zack could let Cloud into his life and never turn back.

Cloud was honored although he didn't fully realize the enormity the one keycard really represented right then.

The alarm sounded that meant Cloud had to go back to class then, and Cloud slipped the keycard into his pocket, gave Zack an apologetic look (he knew the raven-haired SOLDIER would want him to stay) and quietly slipped on his helmet before turning and heading back toward the cadet training grounds. He turned to look back and shouted "Bye, Zack!" before he disappeared out of sight and into the crowd of uniformed cadets. He couldn't help but feel slightly giddy about using the 1st Class' name.

"_I'm a country boy, too_," his own words echoed back to him. He was feeling silly for all those times he called Zack "sir". They were friends. Cloud had let SOLDIER get in the way of friendship. As friends they were equals, and Cloud knew now that although the 1st Class was this mentor, it was more important to Zack that they be friends before rank even came into the picture. The thought made Cloud feel warm and not even the coldness of his fellow cadets could take him out of his good mood.

xxx

Zack was restless that night. While he was washing up and getting ready for bed he had looked in the mirror and seen a flash of Angeal's face behind his. He studied his own face for a few minutes, fingers running over the scar below his cheek—the physical reminder that Angeal had existed, that he had left a permanent mark on Zack.

Zack turned off the light to his bathroom and slowly made his way over to his bed, flopping down onto it with a heavy sigh. When he had given Cloud the keycard earlier, Zack had promised himself that he would call him the next day and ask him to come to his apartment after his classes were over for dinner, but the weight of his history with Angeal was pressing down all around him now. He felt guilty.

It was strange—finding himself in this position. Parts of what he was feeling must have been the very things Angeal must have been going through when he developed feelings for Zack--feelings which surpassed the bonds both mentors and friends shared. But it was more complicated than that. Zack's stomach was fluttering in Cloud's presence not unlike the fluttering feeling he got in front of Angeal, but of course it was different—he was the mentor now, not the student. He was feeling a reversal of the old familiar taboo he first grappled with—he was younger then, but now he was older, and although the nature of his relationship with Cloud was not yet suspect, he knew what the stammer in Cloud's voice meant, what the blush on his cheeks when Zack's hands lingered meant, what the long stares beneath those blond lashes meant. Maybe Cloud couldn't see how Zack felt yet, but he would, and when that time came . . .

The guilty feeling only intensified. Zack let his head fall back and he screwed his eyes shut, trying to imagine that Angeal was there with him. He began his old mantra . . .

_I'll never forget you . . . I'll never forget you . . . I'll never forget you . . ._

_I mean it. _

_Please._

Zack slowly started to drift off and somewhere between relaxation and sleep he felt a calming feeling spread into his limbs. He might have been dreaming, but he felt someone there with him, and when he opened his eyes Angeal was there with him, and his touch felt so real, so _good_.

When he woke up the next morning, he wondered if it was a dream, or if it had really happened, but the guilt that he had felt eating at him had fallen away. Somehow he knew that Angeal wanted him to go on with his life, even if it meant having another lover. Still, Zack repeated his same mantra.

_I'll never forget you._

_xxx_


	3. Chapter 3

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

_xxx_

_Do you feel like I do_

_Tired of everything?_

_Can you feel what I can_

_Almost everything?_

xxx

Part Three

xxx

_"Honestly, what are you thinking, Angeal?"_

_"I'm not . . . really sure myself. At times I feel as if my mind is mired in fog. But Zack, no matter what happens, I have to protect my honor. As long as I hold . . . the Buster sword."_

_You wanted me to help you. _

_I still don't understand. I still don't want to understand. Why me?_

_I don't know who it should have been. _

_Sometimes I think I just force myself to forget things. Like I kept trying to forget what happened after you were gone. You thanked me and I pulled you against my chest, but it was too late. You made me do it . . . made me kill you. You had too many dreams, too much pride, too much honor to kill yourself. _

_Those wings . . . the price of those wings was too high, but I would have helped you carry your burdens. _

_The last good moment we had . . . you put your arms around me and lifted me up and we flew over Midgar. The way you felt, the way the air rushed around us . . . it was beautiful, I guess. It was the first time I remember really understanding what it's like to feel my heart in my throat. I didn't know if I would ever see you again, ever feel those strong arms carrying me. But you weren't carrying me, were you? I was carrying you. I was giving you protection, giving you freedom. _

_The price of freedom is pretty steep, isn't it? _

_I don't remember much._

_ I think I remember too much. _

_I don't know . . . I can't decide. It hurts to think about what I did. I try to think and it hurts. _

_It used to be so uncomplicated. There's something to be said about bliss in ignorance. But I guess the pull for truth is always too strong to be able to fully ignore it._

_I remember I stared up at the sky and watched it open up. The rain pelted down on us as I held you in my arms and felt the warmth fade from your skin. I couldn't believe that you were really gone, that you could ever be gone. You were so strong. For the both of us. _

_You looked so peaceful. I remember I hated it—that you looked so calm. I needed you . . . I need you now. I don't know what to do . . . _

_Angeal, tell me what to do._

xxx

_Look at how they flock to him_

_From an isle of open sores_

_He knows that the taste is such_

_Is such to die for_

_And I hear him every night_

_On every street_

_The scales that do slither_

_Deliver me from..._

_xxx_

_Zack's eyes welled up with tears as he stared down at his mentor's peaceful face. Just moments ago strain had been in his features, his bloody lips struggling to say those last lines. All evidence of pain was gone now. There was nothing monstrous left in him, no more restlessness. At last the fog had lifted. _

_Zack clutched the Buster sword in his hands, staring at it and seeing his own fractured reflection in its surface. Blood ran down into the collar of his uniform from the angry gash on the side of his face and tears and rain diluted the deep red, spread it down his throat. _

_His chest heaved as he laid the sword down and pulled Angeal into his arms. Degradation and deep lacerations marred the dead man's face but there was such mute beauty there. In death he was like a statue eroded by the elements—its true effect on the viewer lost to the cruelty of life itself. _

_An animal-like cry bubbled up from Zack's core and tore its way violently from his lips. Angeal was so cold . . ._

_He could feel the presence of others at his back, but he just didn't care. _

_"I don't care what you were! Monster . . . angel . . . I still loved you." Zack sobbed into the lifeless face. _

_"Cissnei," he could hear the smooth and even voice behind him. "Don't." Tseng was giving Zack his few moments of grief, but it became apparent what the Turks were there for. Cissnei was standing a few feet away from Zack, an expression of sympathy in her eyes. _

_"Zack," she whispered softly. She was about to say something else when Zack rested Angeal's body back down onto the floor carefully, as if the man had just been asleep._

_"Don't you dare," Zack growled. "You'll take him over my dead body."_

_"We have to, Zack. It's our job," Cissnei continued in the same soft whisper. The terror and pain in the raven-haired young man's eyes made her heart hurt, but it didn't stop her from signaling to Reno and Rude. Zack surged forward but was caught in Rude's arms and before he could wrestle himself free, stars shot between his eyes and he convulsed and slumped like a rag doll in the man's grip. Reno's rod had zapped the last ounce of strength from his body and sent him into darkness._

_The grip of sleep was too terrible, too merciless. Silver scales and gnashing teeth followed him into the black deepness of his unconscious mind and threatened to rend his body limb from limb. When he woke up his head was pounding and his heart beats felt too slow. He slowly came into consciousness in the harsh white of a hospital room and a soft face stared down into his. _

_"Cissnei," Zack groaned, mako-sensitive eyes squinting in the sharp white light. _

_"Tseng told me to wait here until you woke up," Cissnei explained. Zack's eyes widened when he realized his arms and legs were restrained. "Calm down, Zack. It's just that . . . the nurses think you were experiencing mako rage. It took twelve guards to hold you down and you weren't even awake. Because of that . . . and because of . . . before . . . Shinra has decided that it is in your best interest to take some time off."_

_"You can't be serious," Zack said through gritted teeth. _

_"It will be good for you," Cissnei reached out to touch Zack's hand, face falling when the SOLDIER flinched and turned his face away. "I'll be there too, Zack."_

_"What did you do with him?" Zack asked with barely concealed anger. The Turks . . . they were like angels of death._

_"Tseng spread his ashes just outside what remains of Banora."_

_"I see." _

_The image of the largest fire-engulfed Banora White tree embedded itself in Zack's mind and refused to dislodge itself. _

_Honor can be quite a burden . . ._

xxx

Zack was staring off into space, the pen cap between his teeth already gnawed into an unrecognizable form, though he continued to grind at it. The paperwork he was supposed to be doing never stood a chance. More often than not he took stacks of them back to his apartment and let them fill the backs of his eyelids so he could drown out his thoughts with mind-numbing tedium. He much preferred it that way anyway. There was so much noise outside his office, so much laughter and bullying and _life_ that _that_ was all he could focus on—all he wanted to focus on. The paperwork he took back to his apartment gave him something to do when everything seemed so still, when the memories tugged at him and strange things tried to make themselves known.

When Zack's cell phone rang the 1st Class nearly fell off his chair, snapped out of his reverie in an instant.

"Z-zack?"

Cloud. Zack could hear the tremor of fear in his voice, the tears.

"Cloud, what's wrong? What's going on?"

"It's embarrassing." Cloud's voice was barely audible.

"Cloud, you're fifteen and you're a cadet. _Everything _should be embarrassing for you." Despite the light joke he was making out of the nature of the phone call, there was a bit of worry in Zack's voice. The only sound on the other side of the line was muted sniffling and soft whimpers. Zack wanted nothing more than to seek Cloud out and fold him in his arms.

"Are you really busy?" Cloud's voice was small.

"Well," Zack considered his mutilated pen. "Not really. Just boring paperwork I didn't really intend on doing until later anyway." A pause. "Do you need me to come get you?"

"Will you promise not to laugh?"

"Do you trust me?" Zack asked, attempting to sound wounded.

"Yeah," Cloud answered, and Zack could hear the smile in his voice despite everything. "I still . . . have a problem with . . . getting undressed in front of the other guys, so I got into the shower and put my uniform outside the curtain and . . ."

"Ohh," Zack nodded as if Cloud could see him. "So they stole your uniform and you're afraid to go out and open your locker." Zack was careful to keep his voice neutral, but he couldn't help smiling just a little. "Want me to come to the rescue and open your locker?"

"That's pretty pathetic, isn't it? . . . I must sound like a—"

"I'll be right there," Zack said as he ended the conversation. He allowed himself a soft chuckle and a shake of his head. What had he gotten himself into? Cloud was _this_ insecure about his body? He remembered himself as a cadet in those same shower rooms doing squats while plenty of other cadets his age milled about naked—they even had full conversations that way. Zack knew it could be hard for some boys, but he would have to have a talk about this with Cloud. The boy really needed a tougher skin and coddling him just wouldn't do. Zack briefly considered calling him back and telling him he needed to confront his fear, but the thought of "rescuing" Cloud from his fear and seeing the boy's wet skin and hair was altogether too appealing to the 1st Class.

Zack picked up the stack of paperwork he'd been neglecting, deposited it in a manila envelope, and tucked a virginal pen behind his ear before he opened the door that led into the main office. He attempted to look important, but Kunsel raised a brow at him from his cubicle.

"Where are you heading off to?" the older SOLDIER asked.

"Important mission. Can't be helped," Zack grinned.

"Yeah, right," Kunsel laughed. "The way that kid has you running to him is really amusing, Zack."

"Laugh it up, chuckles," Zack retorted as he slipped off into the hall. In the elevator he allowed himself to bury his face in his hand in a bemused way like Angeal had often done when Zack did something ridiculous and infantile.

xxx

Well, these certainly weren't the conditions Zack had thought Cloud would come to his apartment under, though he really wasn't sure what he had expected.

This was the first time he had seen Cloud in civilian clothes. Without the shoulder pads and all the sharp formality of his uniform he was small and deceptively doll-like. Zack figured it must have been the kid's cherubic face . . . but his eyes looked older, like clouds over still water. The thought made him smile.

"You know, I thought your name was weird at first. Well, I mean . . . you _are_ a country boy, and there are some pretty weird names from where I come from too, but I couldn't see why your mom named you that. Now I know." Zack gently brushed aside the hair that fell just slightly in front of his eyes and examined the boy's face without restraint. "Your eyes." Cloud tensed, remembering one of the discussions his mother had with him before he left the quiet and cold stillness of Nibelheim for the bustle of the Mako City.

_"You won't be my little Cloud anymore! They'll do something to your eyes and it won't be natural. Please, the city is so dangerous . . . and who will protect my little Cloud?"_

_"Mom, I'll be all right. I can take care of myself."_

Cloud moved away from Zack's hand and stared at the carpet for a few moments. He didn't want to move away, but . . .

"Do you think I'm a baby, Zack?" Cloud asked, unable to meet his mentor's eyes. His hair was still wet and the way it framed his face with just the slightest curl made him seem even softer.

"Nah," Zack shrugged, scooting so close that their knees were touching. "You're just really young and need to grow a tough skin. You can't let others see what your weaknesses are no matter what road you end up on. Especially here. Even if you're not tough you have to pretend until you really are. You'd be surprised how easy it is to fool people. Honest. Besides, you have a secret weapon."

"Secret weapon?"

"Well," Zack beamed, "you have me, and I'm gonna turn you into a lean mean fighting machine, and it'll be perfect because no one would ever suspect that you could totally kick some serious ass. And if anyone gets past you, they'll have me to deal with. And I bite." Zack grinned ridiculously wide and gnashed his teeth together playfully, drawing a laugh out of Cloud. Like a shepherd dog watching a stray from a pack of sheep, Zack showed his loyalty in his honest turquoise eyes.

"Uh, thanks?" Cloud pouted just slightly, unable to stop a laugh from creeping up on him.

"Now, how about dinner? I was planning on ordering in tonight."

Cloud's eyes lit up. It had been a while since he'd eaten anything that wasn't from the mess hall and everything there was always so . . . questionable and unappetizing.

"You didn't even realize just how many perks having me around would bring, huh, kid?"

The luminescence of Cloud's eyes was ridiculously amusing.

xxx

Zack wasn't paying attention to the television anymore. He knew Cloud had fallen asleep on the movie a while ago, but he didn't want to disturb the way the teen was slumped against his shoulder. When his face was relaxed in sleep, the kid looked even more angelic and innocent. It made him feel guilty to enjoy him by his side so much. It made him feel guilty to want to touch those innocent lips. A part of him wondered how innocent he could really be. A part of him wanted to fetishize that innocence and another part of him knew that even if he himself—Cloud Strife—hadn't shed blood, it was still on his hands no matter what because he was a part of Shinra.

That thought surprised Zack. It wasn't true.

Couldn't be true. At least not for him. Not for Cloud. Not for Angeal.

Zack looked down at Cloud's lips as they moved silently in a dream. The television cast its green shadows across his pale skin and he glowed gently in the light. His eyebrows furrowed and he pressed his face against Zack's arm, lips pressed against the skin there. Zack looked down into those knit eyebrows and he felt something there that was greater than himself, greater than Cloud, and greater than Midgar. He gently moved forward to get the remote from his coffee table and turned off the television.

He laid Cloud gently in his own bed and pulled the covers up over him. The feeling stayed with Zack as he walked back over to his couch and retrieved his paperwork from under the takeout boxes. The feeling followed him into sleep even after he had finished marking the papers with the scratches of his pen.

xxx


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: The song Sephiroth is listening to is called "Sposa Son Disprezzata" (I Am Wife and I Am Scorned), a song sung by Cecilia Bartoli about a wife whose husband has betrayed her. Unfortunately, Sephiroth is about to understand all too well what a betrayal of everything he knows feels like. I was going for a bit of juxtaposition between Sephiroth and President Shinra (remember how he's listening to classical music as the plate below blows up?). The first time I heard this song my chest felt tight. There is something so deeply haunting about it. Look up the performance on YouTube if you can!

I hope you guys like this part! It has quite a bit of fluff! I think Cloud is really supposed to be 16 at this point, but I like him being 15 better . . . because I am perverted, I think. XD

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_There's no angels here_

_Just a sun to light the way_

_To places where my friends_

_Turn to strangers_

xxx

Part Four

xxx

_The air seemed electric. The little hairs on the back of Zack's neck stood on end as he moved slowly through the abandoned street. He pulled his hand back slowly to draw his sword, eyes following a tattered Loveless poster being carried through the wind. His ears strained to hear as he lowered the sword and moved it out in an arc a few inches from the ground. He silently stalked, turning in circles carefully each time the wind brushed against his ear. He shivered a little as he felt a presence and as he turned again in the same semi-circle he felt the air rush in on him, seeing him before it was too late. He parried at the last second, his form sloppy. _

_Angeal's eyes flashed with something as his sword sparked against Zack's, forcing the younger man up against the side of an abandoned warehouse. Zack's eyes grew wild and determined though he was cornered and he let out an aggressive bark as he surged forward, metal ringing as his weapon scraped against the side of Angeal's identical broadsword. Zack ducked, pulled the sword back, and with a triumphant and almost breathless smile, spun his way into the warehouse cloaked in darkness. The only light inside came from the cracks in the boarded up windows. _

_Angeal's eyes were filled with amusement as he pursued at Zack's heels, anticipating each and every move of Zack's sword. Zack attempted to force Angeal back in a flurry of steel meeting steel, but Angeal blocked each attack. Where Angeal's eyes were full with amusement and pride for his student, Zack's eyes glowed with the fire of passion in the darkness enveloping them. Zack's vibrant eyes were the only things not immediately rendered a shade of light gray in the dark by Angeal's mako-sensitive eyes. _

_"Now," Angeal ordered, twisting as his sword followed the arc of his movement. Zack's eyes narrowed as he followed the blur of flesh and steel. He raised his sword up into the air and surged forward once again, blade screeching as it found Angeal's. His footing was not as stable as the older man's and his eyes flew wide in surprise as Angeal backed him up into another corner, their swords trembling under the weight of twin forces. Zack felt like he was going to buckle under Angeal's force, his own heart pounding angrily in his ears, his chest heaving. Zack let out a frustrated cry; he was unable to push Angeal back and hyper aware of the fact that his mentor had barely broken a sweat. He was just as calm and collected as if he were standing still and the way he moved was smooth and effortless._

_ Zack couldn't stand that small smile tugging at the older man's lips—not anymore. One of their rules was that as soon as Zack expressed his desire to end their session Angeal would have to relent, no matter what. This was an idea suggested by Angeal so that Zack didn't hurt himself when they sparred, as it was a fairly new development in their training sessions. Thus far it was Angeal's call whether to continue or abort their sessions, but Zack so often pushed himself beyond his capabilities that Angeal had to force his student to understand his own limitations. Leaving it up to Zack was a point of trust for Angeal because he would have to believe that Zack would end the session when it was appropriate. _

_Zack smiled through gritted teeth, arms shaking, and pulled his trump card. _

_"End it!" Zack growled, arms trembling. _

_Angeal took the bait and relented, but not all the way, testing Zack. It was just enough for Zack to use one arm to tug Angeal's head closer by his hair. His lips crashed against Angeal's between their blades. _

_Angeal took a step back, sheathed his sword, and pressed in against Zack again, this time with the intent to claim him. Zack's blade fell to the floor with a clang at the predatory gleam in his mentor's eyes and when he felt Angeal's lips on his own, his chest tightened and he didn't dare breathe for fear that it would end._

_The kiss was brutal and hard, passionate and animalistic all in the same moment and inexperienced as Zack was, he learned fast and was guided by his passionate heart like in all matters. Soon both he and Angeal were breathless and ragged. Angeal's glove-clad hands—used so often to touch him in tantalizing places for mere moments when correcting his student's stances—now touched and lingered with hungry need in all the right places. Bodies crashed together and writhed and Zack threw his head back and his hips forward, hitting the wall as—_

A bright light flooded in front of Zack's eyes. A whimper fell from his lips as he quickly realized he was waking up from a dream he wanted to sink back into. But the light wouldn't allow him to drift. There was only one option and so Zack's eyes fluttered open regretfully. What greeted him was the sight of Cloud standing in the middle of the doorway to his bedroom, presumably lost in his own thoughts. Zack quickly shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep, wondering what the boy would do next. To his amazement, he heard him walk toward the couch where Zack lay. The air shifted as Cloud rested on his knees in front of the SOLDIER. What could Cloud be doing? Zack didn't have to wait long. He felt a hand place itself rather awkwardly on his cheek. Two fingers softly traced the scar there. A shiver tore through Zack's body and his eyes opened slowly, eyebrows knit in confusion as he looked up into Cloud's face. The boy recoiled as though his hand had been burned.

"Cloud?"

"You . . . you were making these noises in your sleep . . . I just . . . just wanted to know if you were all right."

"Did I wake you up?" Zack asked groggily. Cloud shook his head, a guilty look crossing over his face.

"I've . . . been up. Actually, I can't go to sleep." Cloud couldn't bring himself to look into Zack's eyes.

"What's keeping you up?" Zack asked dazedly, his mind still foggy from the dream.

"I don't know . . ." Cloud began, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Nnnh?" Zack shook his head and slowly propped himself up onto an elbow to regard Cloud with as much serious attention he could give him with a raging hardon. "Tell me, please?"

"I've been hearing a lot of people saying things about Shinra . . . how it's going to collapse right under itself . . . I don't know how things are going to be . . . And . . . well, I don't want to have any regrets. You've told me to be tough . . . to embrace my dreams . . . and . . . I know what your mentor meant to you now . . . I figured it out."

Zack knew that Cloud was aware that Shinra kept secrets . . .

Monsters . . . angel wings . . . experiments . . .

Shinra's closet of secrets was about to burst open. Just because the company was trying to lull its infantrymen into a false sense of security didn't mean Cloud wasn't aware that as a Shinra guard he was their first line of defense.

Cloud quickly leaned down and pressed his lips to Zack's in an awkwardly chaste kiss. Zack was nearly stunned, but when Cloud moved back away Zack took a hold of Cloud's wrist and tugged him up and onto the couch with him.

"M'sorry," Cloud mumbled. Zack could feel him shaking. Kissing his mentor was probably the boldest thing the kid had ever done in his short life.

"Don't be sorry," Zack murmured softly as he leaned his head down and brushed his lips against Cloud's. His arms moved reassuringly around the smaller boy's back and gently pulled him against his chest. Cloud snuggled close, surprised by the warmth that enveloped him. His face felt like it was burning hotly, but Cloud parted his lips for Zack and allowed his mentor to deepen the kiss. Zack could taste the desperation there, the need for comfort and solace. As an infantryman Zack had seen kids his age torn from their families and forced to join the Shinra guard, had seen the look in their eyes of lost innocence and stolen youth.

But both he and Cloud, they had joined because they felt destined somehow, unattainable as their dreams seemed.

To have dreams, no matter how unattainable, was beautiful. Could Zack taste that in Cloud? Never had a simple kiss given him so much understanding.

Cloud wasn't fifteen then, and Zack doubted he would ever think of him that way again. What he felt wasn't complicated, really. And Cloud had been right about regrets. Zack slipped his heated fingers against the nape of Cloud's neck and kissed the breath out of him. The only sound in the apartment was their harsh breathing and their lips finding one another's over and over. Cloud could barely see Zack in the mostly dark room, but what he felt . . . what he felt more than made up for the lack of sight.

Zack's fingers slid up under Cloud's shirt to feel pale skin and trapped Cloud's body against the couch. His hips rubbed slowly, agonizingly. The whimpers that fell from Cloud's lips grew louder, more desperate. It didn't take long, but Zack would not have traded anything in the world for the sight of those clear blue eyes clouded with pleasure.

Cloud groggily allowed Zack to carry him back to the bed and didn't protest when he felt what seemed like disembodied hands to his sleepy mind tug his soiled clothes off. Zack disappeared for a few moments and returned with a pair of his shorts and a shirt. He cleaned the rest of the sticky substance from slim thighs and dressed Cloud with care. When he was done Zack ruffled the boy's golden hair and turned to leave, but Cloud grabbed Zack's arm and pleaded for him to stay. He obliged and pulled Cloud into his arms.

"Sweet dreams. To the both of us." Zack yawned. It didn't take him long to drop off to sleep.

xxx

_There's no angels here_

_Just a light to lead the way_

_There's no innocence_

_Only strangers_

xxx

_"What do angels dream of? . . . To be human."_

The next day Zack was wandering around in a pleasant fog when he received a call from Sephiroth. The fog lifted a little and Zack's voice filled with nervous excitement. It had been a while since he'd heard from the silver-haired general and he rushed back into the Shinra building to seek the man out in his office.

"Zack."

The sound of a woman's desperate and plaintive singing voice felt heavy around Zack. Sephiroth stood at the window in his office staring down over Midgar. Zack shifted nervously as he watched Sephiroth's hand slide over the glass and return to his side. His head tilted just slightly backward, but he didn't turn to face Zack.

"Do you know what sets us apart from beasts?"

Zack didn't answer. Sephiroth was the type of man to pose questions only so that he could answer them.

"Culture." Sephiroth turned around slowly, his hair falling just over his eyes and not quite shielding the strange expression in them that Zack had never seen there. He ordered the photos strewn over his desk and slid them into the briefing folder laying open at the edge and held them in front of his eyes as the climbing emotion in the voice enfolded them both. After a few moments Sephiroth lifted his eyes to Zack's. A shiver ran up Zack's spine. "You can hear the desperation and betrayal in her voice, the raw emotion. Are we really so different from beasts?"

_"SOLDIER . . . they're scary. They fight . . . and they love it."_

Zack was alarmed. The same look he had seen in Aerith's eyes? A bit of sadness and something searching . . . like to understand was just out of reach. Sephiroth walked over to Zack and handed him a picture from the folder. Zack stared at it, squinting for some hidden meaning. What he saw was a large mangy dog half dragging its body, mako oozing from its wounds. One side of its body was half torn away, muscles bulging impossibly large. Zack expected to be disgusted, but . . . his heart welled up with sadness.

"Abominations." Sephiroth's voice was hard with barely concealed hatred. Zack looked up from the photo and felt himself swallowing hard.

"What is this?" Zack asked, unable to shake the ominous feeling.

"You'll know in a few days," Sephiroth said dismissively as he held out his hand toward Zack and took back the photo. He placed it among the others before dropping the folder back onto his desk. "I hear you've become somewhat of an inspirational speaker for those aspiring heroism." A small smile ghosted on Sephiroth's lips. "Angeal would be proud."

Zack was surprised, but brightness returned to his face. "Thanks, Sephiroth. General. Sir. And hey . . . listen . . . don't stay cooped up in here listening to this for too long, okay? You're starting to sound a bit like Genesis and it's creeping me out pretty good."

"Hmm," Sephiroth blinked, arms folding in front of his chest. "Noted. Permission to leave granted." Zack shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Zack?"

Zack turned back around and caught Sephiroth contemplating the woman's voice as though he was trying to understand the emotion.

"I know you're fond of an infantryman named Cloud Strife." His eyes fell on Zack's again and this time there was a bit of softness in them. Zack had seen that look in the general's eyes before . . . when he spoke of friendship. "Tell him that he will be accompanying you on a mission again very very soon." The general turned again and walked back over to the window overlooking Midgar and Zack knew it was his cue to leave. As he did so he thought about how it had been a while since he had seen the man, but something . . .

Something was different. The look in those normally aloof mako eyes troubled him almost as much as the sad look he had seen in the photo of the beast.

xxx


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you to Shiny Ryuichi Sakuma who alerted me that my anonymous reviews were disabled. Now you can give me anon reviews, whee!

Phew. This is the longest part yet! This depicts Zack and Cloud's last moment together in Midgar before departing for Nibelheim. Cloud doesn't know where he's going yet, just that Zack has puppy-eyed him into coming along. Something tells me he won't be very happy.

Oh, and this part is NC-17 for . . . porcupine sex. XD;

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_I wanna leave today_

_The sky is big and my life is small_

_I wanna leave with you_

_So we can build a perfect garden_

xxx

Part Five

xxx

Cloud walked out of the mess hall, his legs carrying him mechanically. He felt like he was on autopilot that day. When he was called out of the line of cadets earlier for a blocking demonstration he wasn't paying attention and was hit in the stomach. He had seen stars in the back of his eyes while the sound of the other cadets laughing washed over him and when he returned to his spot on the line someone shoved him so hard that he went tumbling onto his knees.

_"That's where you belong, Strife! On the ground like a dog!"_

Cloud's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he made his way back to his dorm, head down and staring at his feet as he quickened his pace. For once he wished that he were smaller so that he could slip through the cracks of the pavement and never be seen again. He was determined not to call Zack and tell him about what happened. Cloud looked up to Zack in so many ways and he was so embarrassed about the shower incident that this fresh blow to his ego felt like a fiery brand of mortification, as though everyone could see how incompetent he was just by looking at him. Worst of all, he had been in a pleasant fog surrounded by thoughts of Zack, a fog that had been dispersed by the punch. He couldn't blame his incompetence on Zack—the man had been helping him so much, but something about last night had made him . . . fall apart a little, and he wasn't so sure if it was possible to go back.

He plunged his keycard into the front door of his dorm and waited for the elevator. His face burned with more and more shame with each passing second. His shame turned to anger and by the time he got to the apartment his mind swirled with thoughts about dropping out of the Cadet Program. His emotionally charged mind was so distraught that it wasn't even thinking about what Zack might think of him for being a quitter. What Tifa might think. What his mother might think.

Cloud reached for the door, praying to anyone who might hear that his roommates weren't in and that he could slip off to bed unnoticed, but there was no such luck for Cloud. The door was already ajar and he could hear easy laughter coming from the other side of it. Cloud tucked his head down into the green neckerchief that signaled his rank as a grunt and prepared himself mentally for the mad dash he was about to make for his door, but what greeted him when he walked into the apartment stunned Cloud so badly that his throat made a horrified squawk not unlike the wark of a chocobo.

Zack Fair, SOLDIER 1st Class, stood in the middle of the common area Cloud shared with two other cadets who were about to make 3rd while Cloud was still the runt of their class. Cloud's heart dropped at the easy way Zack laughed. It wasn't that Cloud didn't like his roommates, but he was jealous. They were both highly praised by the instructor who so easily picked on Cloud because of his small frame. Seeing Zack so friendly with them made Cloud's stomach tighten into knots and the tears that had been threatening to fall slid down into his neckerchief. By all rights, Zack should have been training _them_. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him and anger stabbed into his chest. Of course he had known that Zack was a friendly guy and that his disarming smiles often brought smiles in kind to those who never could never perform the simple action easily, but in his moment of weakness Cloud felt as though he really might not be special to the 1st Class after all—couldn't be. He turned from the door and fled into the hall like a wild deer. He didn't know where he would run to, just that he needed to get away.

Zack came to Cloud's apartment straight away rather than calling beforehand to surprise him. His meeting with Sephiroth had rattled on his nerves pretty badly and he was looking to distract himself any way he could. The cadets often made him feel his own age again. He could be free around them, show them that even though he was a high-ranking SOLDIER operative, he was still just a kid at heart. He was teaching the two cadets the importance of a cool-looking pose when Cloud walked in the door. Zack could only get a glimpse of Cloud, but he appeared pretty distraught and there had been tears in his eyes. Zack ran out the door without a word to the two cadets and caught up with Cloud quickly. He grabbed a hold of Cloud's arm right before he could get on the elevator and dragged him back into the hall.

"Cloud, what the hell—"

"Don't touch me!" Cloud yelled as the elevator closed without anyone in it. He knew he shouldn't be taking his anger out on the only person he cared about here, but the confusion and shame that gripped his heart made him lash out. Zack's eyes flashed with hurt and Cloud immediately regretted his harsh tone. Cadets were already creeping out of their apartments to stare at them and Cloud didn't know what to do. His face only grew redder, his expression twisting with bitterness. "I-I'm sorry," Cloud muttered as he broke away from Zack's hold and ran down the staircase faster than he'd ever run in his life. Zack sighed heavily and shrugged at the cadets who witnessed the display before he made his way to the adjacent staircase and ran to catch up with Cloud. Zack didn't know what to make of it. Was Cloud regretting what they had done last night? Had something happened to him in class? The only thing Zack knew for certain was that he needed to know.

Once he was outside Zack spotted Cloud sitting on a bench outside the dorm with his legs drawn up into his chest, arms shielding his face. Zack knew he was crying by the way his shoulders heaved. He approached carefully and sat beside Cloud on the bench.

"That was some scene you pulled," Zack said softly, a bit of hurt in his voice. The way Cloud had reacted so violently to his touch had sent a wave of guilt through him.

"Didn't want you to see me like this. Why'd you have to come?" Cloud's shoulders shook more and his voice twisted with tears.

"Cloud, you can't run from your problems. Please . . . tell me what's wrong." Zack's hand rested gently on Cloud's arm, deep concern in his voice. "It's not about last night, is it?" Zack needed to know and couldn't hold himself back from asking. Relief swept over him when Cloud shook his head vigorously. Then what had made Cloud act that way?

"I didn't want to let you down. I'm so weak . . . I don't know if I want this as badly as I once thought." Cloud tugged at the neckerchief around his neck, attempting to tear it away, but Zack's hands stopped him.

"No," Zack said as gruffly as he could muster. "Whatever happened, Cloud—and if you don't want to tell me it's okay—I will not allow you to give up on yourself. What kind of mentor would I be . . . what kind of _person_ would I be if I could just watch you throw your dreams away because you're afraid?" It looked like he was getting through to Cloud; he slowly released the death grip on his legs and let them slide back down onto the floor before he looked up at Zack with water-rimmed eyes. "Come back to my apartment? It seems like we have a lot to talk about."

"Please," Cloud's voice was low and shaky. "I don't want to—"

"We don't have to talk about that; I'd never force you to do anything." He nudged Cloud gently, trying to make it clear to the younger boy that when he said "anything" he _meant_ anything. "But I do have something to tell you. Earlier . . . I thought you'd be happy. Now I'm not so sure." Zack knew the look of curiosity in Cloud's eyes and took that as his cue to stand and wait to see if he would follow. They walked in silence to Zack's apartment. The way Cloud was dragging his feet worried Zack, but he hoped that he would be able to cheer the boy up soon. He was usually able to cheer anybody up and he was fairly confidant in his powers. He could get even The Great Sephiroth to smile, after all. It wasn't much of a smile, granted, but it still counted to Zack. Many of the littlest reactions he took for granted in other people were cherished when it came to his . . . was it a friendship? Was he really the Great General's friend? Zack had been Angeal's friend, and Angeal was Sephiroth's friend, and Sephiroth _did _seem to tolerate Zack's antics fairly well, considering. To think about Sephiroth now brought questions to Zack's mind, but it was inevitable that he think about him. Cloud had told Zack that he came to Midgar because of Sephiroth and so Zack knew that he would have to sell this assignment to Cloud through the General. Zack didn't know if Sephiroth would be accompanying him on the mission, but it wouldn't hurt to give Cloud something to focus on now while he was still so distraught.

When they reached the 1st Class apartment complex Zack took out his keycard and swiped them in, nodding to the guard at the desk and the two men standing against the structural columns. One smiled and waved, but the other continued to tap his fingers against the barrel of his rifle. Cloud pressed in close to Zack but remained quiet the rest of the way. Finally Zack arrived at his door and walked into his apartment. He was grateful for the privacy of the familiar surroundings and only when he propped the Buster sword against a corner and flipped on all the lights did he take Cloud by the hand and pull him over to the couch. Immediately Zack's mind attempted to wander to the events of last night, but he stopped himself. He couldn't think of that right now, not with Cloud looking so dejected.

"Cloud, why don't you go wash your face? It might make you feel better?" Cloud's eyes were fixed on the floor and he didn't lift them as he rose up and walked into the bathroom. Zack's eyes followed Cloud as he bent just slightly over the sink to splash water onto his face. When he was done he dried his face and hands with the guest towel. Zack couldn't help but feel a certain kind of fascination in watching Cloud do these simple things. He remembered watching Angeal do the simple actions that every human being needed to accomplish every day. At first it had made him feel slightly giddy, slightly strange. There was a great satisfaction in knowing that someone Zack respected and looked up to so much, someone who appeared so much _higher_ than him needed to do things that seemed, well, beneath him. But Zack wasn't looking at Cloud the same way. Perhaps he was just remembering how he used to examine all the mundane things Angeal did as if those simple human actions—when accomplished by someone so close to him—were like creating works of art. Zack was startled by the strangely poetic nature of the thought and shook it from his head as he realized Cloud had shut the light and was walking back over to him.

"I'm a jerk," Cloud muttered as he settled down into the couch, eyes far off. Zack shook his head, smiled, and moved close to turn Cloud's face toward his. "I hope you don't hate me."

"I could never hate you," Zack said. He shook his head vigorously to drive the point home for Cloud. "I was a little hurt, but I got over it pretty quickly. I'm just concerned for you because I don't want to see you feeling hurt and confused. I like my clouds to be all fluffy and cute, not all ominous and full of rain." The way Zack scrunched his face up made Cloud smile a little and Zack grinned triumphantly, pointing at Cloud wildly. "Ha! See, you're feeling a little better now, aren't you?"

"You always make me feel better," Cloud muttered as he looked unwaveringly into Zack's eyes. "It's just that . . . I want to make you proud, but I feel so useless. I don't know why you like me so much."

"I like you because you have a good heart, you work hard, and when you're not moping around, you're pretty fun."

Cloud shook his head, seemingly unconvinced. "Hey, uhm, didn't you say you wanted to tell me something?"

"Yeah." He paused a moment and gave Cloud a sly look. "First I wanna see you come a little closer. When I told you I bite, I didn't mean I'd bite _you_. Well . . . only if you want me to." Cloud attempted to look scandalized but laughed softly as he slid closer.

"Tell me?" Cloud asked. Zack was happy to see that those clear blue eyes were vibrant again. They had become so dark when all that negative emotion was there.

"I guess I'll just come out and say it, then. I met with Sephiroth today and—"

"_The _Sephiroth?" Cloud's eyes widened, but then Zack saw a hint of something melancholy in them. He would need to work hard to make the kid happy today, he guessed.

"Yeah. Hadn't seen him in a bit and was wondering what was up with him. I used to see him a lot more . . . before. Anyway, seems like he's interested in something and he wants me to take you with me on an assignment."

"Sephiroth . . . knows about me?" Cloud's voice was nearly dreamy. Zack laughed.

"He always knows what the 1st Classes are doing, so he knows that I have a soft spot for you."

"Is . . . that okay?" The worried look in Cloud's eyes was amusing.

"Yeah. I think it reminds him of how Angeal used to be with me." He wanted to add that it also reminded _him_ of the bond he had with Angeal, but he knew that Cloud already knew that, even despite the SOLDIER's reluctant and sparse information. The kid was either astute or Zack was hopelessly easy to read. Zack suspected it was both. "But, well, he seemed to take whatever the assignment was about . . . personally or something, so for your sake I kind of hope he joins us. Wouldn't that be fun? You can't drop out before you even get into SOLDIER now, not when you might be able to see Sephiroth in action. It will remind you of what you came here for, right?" Zack looked at Cloud hopefully, expecting to find some spark of passion in the soft features of his face. What he saw there was fear. Zack sighed and shook his head.

"Don't worry so much, Cloud. Despite how he looks, Sephiroth is human. He's loyal to a fault . . . he makes mistakes, and he even smiles! Uhm, sorta. And if you impress him he'll probably remember you. He remembers faces pretty well, which kinda surprised me at first. He's gotta know a _lot_ of people." What Zack said seemed to comfort Cloud. He nodded a little as if trying to digest all the information that seemed so abstract and distant. He didn't know if the General would really be joining them, but the idea of it actually being possible was alluring and scary at the same time. Sephiroth had been his idol for what seemed like most of his young life. He remembered his romantic ideals and how he spilled them all to Tifa that one fateful evening before he left "to join SOLDIER". He felt a little silly for dreaming so big, but the way Zack talked about the same desires made Cloud feel warm all over. Zack gave Cloud a piece of the dream, made it seem almost real for him. If he had given him just that it would have been more than enough, but Zack was starting to become everything to Cloud. The thought scared him if only because Cloud was afraid that that it was all built on tenuous strings that could easily be snipped apart. Cloud gave Zack a shifty-eyed look as though he wanted to say something or do something. "Is . . . something else bothering you?" Zack asked.

"I was just wondering . . . last night . . . it really happened, didn't it?" The look of wonder in Cloud's eyes made Zack smile a little and he finally allowed himself to stroke Cloud's hair and touch his face gently.

"So does that mean you'll be going?" Zack asked with a wicked glint to his eyes. Cloud stared up at Zack and felt his throat tighten and his cheeks redden. Zack's face was so close. He nodded quickly, but Zack didn't back off. Instead he threaded his fingers with Cloud's and pressed his hand against the back of the couch, leaning in to brush his lips against Cloud's. Cloud felt his blood rush south. "I'm glad," Zack breathed.

"Zack . . . you really do like me?" Cloud's voice was incredulous.

"When you pushed me away and told me not to touch you, I thought you regretted what happened last night." Zack's eyes searched Cloud's as he moved his leather-clad fingers gently against the other's bare ones. Cloud's eyes drooped beneath long blond lashes, his heart beating in his ears. "What's it gonna take for you to quit worrying so much? You've got me. I was distracted all day with the memory of your lips." The strange words brought a soft moan from Cloud's lips. "I just want to make sure . . . absolutely sure that this is what you want, that this isn't too much for you, because I'd hate myself if you felt like I was being . . . uh, pushy I guess."

"I kissed you," Cloud murmured. "I don't remember too much of what happened, but . . . I know I liked it . . . because it was with you."

"I'll help you remember then," Zack promised breathily. "I think I'd better make you feel good after what we went through today. Have to let you know that I don't want to let you go." The completely serious tone to Zack's voice made Cloud gulp, his breathing picking up as Zack tightened his hold on Cloud's arms. Those lips were on Cloud's again and he could feel himself giving in to the returning fog.

"I think . . . we need to finish what we started," Cloud murmured between kisses. Zack smiled and kissed Cloud one last time before he stood and held out a hand to Cloud.

"Then we better move to where we can be more comfortable. Come to my bedroom?" Zack looked like he was searching Cloud's eyes for any sign of fear or disapproval, but all he found there was mute acceptance. Cloud took hold of Zack's hand and pulled himself up. He nestled into Zack's arms and rested his head against the broad chest, his ear pressed there and listening to the heartbeat. He was surprised to find that it was a bit fast and when he looked up at Zack's face he knew that Zack genuinely cared about him. He wasn't very sure why, especially after the scene he created in the cadet dorm, but it made him feel good to know that soft look of kindness in his eyes was for him, so he let Zack lead him to the bedroom. When the backs of his legs hit the end of the bed Zack's hands were on his shoulders to gently push him down onto it in a sitting position. Zack only stepped back a little to peel off his gloves and set them aside, but the fog intensified when he saw Zack settle onto his knees between his legs. He felt the older man untie his neckerchief and unfasten the armor and belts that held his uniform together.

Zack's eyes flicked up to Cloud's from his position on the floor as he carefully opened the front of his uniform jacket. Cloud only closed his eyes and concentrated on trying to slow his heartbeat. He felt as though his heart was about to burst out of his chest knowing that Zack could see him in full light.

"Cloud . . ." The bed shifted as Zack sat beside Cloud. "Don't be afraid, Cloud." Lips pressed against Cloud's as the uniform jacket slipped from his shoulders and fell onto the bed. Clear blue eyes opened and stared into mako blue. Zack pushed the smaller boy gently into the mattress and murmured for him to move up a little. Cloud squirmed as Zack took a hold of each leg and unlaced each boot, tossing them to the floor before he bent to remove his own armor, sheath, belts and boots. When he returned he slid his body up over Cloud's and smiled gently down over him. "We okay so far? Not traumatizing you?"

"Not made of glass," Cloud murmured, though he had to admit to himself that he was scared, but in an excited sort of way. The feeling of Zack's hips pressed against his own was just short of amazing, and he could feel that Zack wanted him.

"Just wanna be careful. You're kinda unpredictable."

Cloud reached a hand up, grabbed a fistful of Zack's hair, and pulled his head down toward his. Their lips crashed together and it was all Zack needed to stop being overcautious and finally surrender to his needs. Soft moans filled the bedroom as Cloud finally allowed himself to relax and follow his baser instincts. Finally Zack moved to tug Cloud's pants down. Naked, Cloud looked like he was made of sharp angles, but his skin was smooth and hot under Zack's hands, and every bit of flesh Zack touched made the boy come alive and whimper under him. Zack was still mostly dressed when his lips traveled over pale virginal skin.

"I'll make you feel good," Zack promised, his fingers claiming Cloud's thighs and pushing them open. Zack's fingers and tongue felt fiery as they consumed Cloud. The sharp cry that filled the apartment gave way to a steady stream of whimpers. It felt good. It felt _too_ good. Everything was a blur of clouded pleasure and when Cloud could finally speak again it was happening all over. Zack was pushing his hands up against the bed above his head and he could only hear his own wild heart beating and the sound of heavy breathing. The feeling of slick skin against slick skin was almost enough to tear him apart, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of being filled. Cloud focused on Zack's eyes for as long as he could, but he felt himself slipping . . .

Slipping into something that made everything explode and fall away in its power. Cloud could see stars again, but this time he welcomed them.

xxx

_I wanna leave today_

_The sky is big and my life is small_

_I wanna leave with you_

_So we can build a desert garden_

xxx

"Aerith?" The sound on the other line was muddled, but he could make out some sort of trouble—a banging noise and the distorted sound of hurrying.

"Zack! Come quick! The flowers!" The line cut out and Zack closed his phone shut before sliding it into his pocket. He hadn't been doing much. He was on leave and Sephiroth hadn't gotten in contact with him yet. Cloud was with his instructor and classmates, so that left Zack to his own devices. He had been staring at the Sector 8 fountain for what seemed like forever before Aerith called and he kicked himself mentally for not meeting with her sooner. His mind had been so preoccupied with Cloud that he hadn't called her in practically two weeks. It seemed like she was in danger and it only made him feel guiltier.

He didn't know what Aerith was to him.

_"Someone's waiting for you, no?"_ He remembered that flash of . . . something in Angeal's eyes. But he didn't feel that way about Aerith. He wasn't sure _what_ he felt, but he knew that he was drawn to her somehow, almost like how he was drawn to Cloud. They were special to him—two people he would protect with his life if it came down to it.

Zack hurried to the Sector 5 slums and burst into the dilapidated church. What greeted him made him stumble back. Aerith was standing in front of the flowerbed with her arms hugged to her chest and a beast stood before her, its wings spread out as if it was about to take flight or get ready to charge. It looked like an Angeal copy, but Zack couldn't believe it, wouldn't believe it . . . not with Angeal being dead.

"Zack!" Aerith cried out, her eyes lighting up with relief. Zack crept toward the beast and alerted Aerith to be quiet with a look of warning in his eyes. He slowly slid the Buster sword out of the sheath on his back, but Aerith shook her head sadly as if to say that she didn't want to see him fighting. Zack slid the sword back down, but kept his hand there, his other stretched out toward the beast as if to say he wouldn't harm it unless it provoked him.

What happened next took Zack aback. The beast bared its throat to reveal the face of his dead mentor.

"A-An Angeal copy?" His brows furrowed with confusion and he let go of his sword, curiosity pulling him toward the beast. The door behind him opened before he could examine any further and a small-scale Shinra tank rolled slowly over the creaking boards of the abandoned church. It didn't seem like it posed much of a threat, but it was aimed toward Aerith. Before Zack could react the Angeal copy had rushed in at the tank and dented it severely enough to make it malfunction and blow up. Zack ran in front of Aerith to shield her from the blast, amazed and alarmed by the beast's action. It had raised itself on its wings to avoid the blast and settled back down onto the ground after the crisis was averted.

"Thank you," Zack said. He gave the beast a crooked smile and felt sort of silly, but then . . . the entire situation seemed silly to him. An Angeal copy protecting him?

"Was it . . . protecting us?" Aerith asked. Her voice seemed small and she wanted to wrap her arms around Zack, but she sensed something strange between this beast and her friend.

"Yeah," Zack said, turning his head to look at Aerith, a bit of confusion in his eyes. "Probably." He didn't sound sure. The beast fell to the floor and they both let out a breath they didn't know had been trapped in their throats. Concern filled Zack's eyes and he walked carefully over to the Angeal copy, his chest feeling tight. He knelt down beside it and stared down at its haggard grayish appearance.

"Looks like . . . it's degrading." The memory of Angeal's dying face came flooding back to Zack with all the power of a ton of bricks.

"Poor thing," Aerith whispered. She didn't quite understand what degradation was, but she could feel the weight of its sadness and she could feel the gravity of its meaning for Zack. Zack made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, his mind working through the implications of the Angeal copy.

"Does this mean . . . Angeal is out there too?" He was speaking to himself and Aerith didn't quite follow what he was saying, but she could tell that it meant a lot to Zack. Was it possible that this Angeal was the friend that he had lost two years ago, the one he had been so troubled over in his sleep? Zack's eyes looked so sad as he ran a gloved hand over the beast's head that Aerith thought it must have been. Zack was so strong that she couldn't fathom him having shed tears over just anything. That friend had meant a lot to Zack and Aerith could only comfort him so much.

The beast rolled its eyes up toward Zack and heaved itself greatly up off the floor, its powerful silver limbs seeming greatly taxed. Zack rushed to put his arm around Aerith to protect her though he knew that the beast meant them no harm. It sagged under its own weight for a moment and then nobly righted itself on the ground. Its huge wings lifted and gently cut the air around Aerith and Zack, the fabric of Aerith's skirt floating around them in the gentle breeze created. The Angeal copy circled slowly as it took to the air and rose all the way to the rafters of the church where it landed and looked down at the two with a certain softness in its eyes. Zack was reminded of the incredible sadness he had seen in the mako-ravaged dog.

"It was so . . . I dunno . . . sad." Aerith folded her hands in front of her and looked up at the poor creature. Zack looked back over at Aerith, wonder in his eyes at the way she was able to empathize.

"What did you . . . come here to do?" Zack asked softly up at the creature. It only regarded him, a distance returning to its eyes. They were worlds apart. Aerith looked at Zack, couldn't stand the look in his eyes.

"So . . . a flower wagon!" She cried enthusiastically. "Let's make one!" She was trying desperately to cheer Zack up, to get his mind off the sad creature in the rafters. Zack's head tilted down slowly, regarding Aerith's suggestion.

"Mm," Zack's eyes tore away from the creature's. "Yeah, but . . ."

"Don't worry," Aerith smiled. She felt safe with the creature and wanted Zack to know it.

"Can you hear me?" Zack pointed a finger up at the Angeal copy, his voice growing stern and authoritative. "Stay right where you are!" Aerith looked up, gave the creature a curious smile, and walked back over to her flowerbed. Zack sighed. "I'll . . . I'll take care of things."

Building the flower wagon helped Zack take his mind off of things and Aerith's smile was so bright that he could only feel a sense of happiness in the church with her. He sawed and nailed as she gathered flowers and arranged them, her laughter light and airy.

When it was all done, he pulled her away from the flowers and unveiled the wagon he had been working on for an hour, his grin triumphant. Aerith didn't look impressed, which made him practically pout, but she conceded that the flowers took precedence over the wagon. Besides, Zack wasn't exactly a carpenter and he had forgotten to include several items. She rolled the wagon around a bit and noticed that it had a squeaky wheel. Zack shook his head and chided her a bit.

"A tiny little wish, that's all." She stood tall, looking up at the rafters, but then smiled back at Zack.

"They're tiny, but you have lots, right?"

"That's right, wanna hear?" Aerith came close to Zack, smiling widely up into his face. Those eyes . . . so pretty.

"How many ya got?" Zack laughed, exasperated.

"Hmm," Aerith said, counting on her fingers. She whirled around. Her eyes were alight with amusement. "Twenty . . . three?" Zack blinked, his arms dropping from his sides.

"Write them down, so I don't forget." He laughed a little as Aerith began to actually write them, but he didn't have time to marvel at Aerith and the way she was for too long. His phone rang and he took it out of his pocket. Breath caught in his throat when he heard Sephiroth's voice.

"There are new developments." His voice was stern.

"What?"

"Headquarters. Now." The line clicked and Zack stared in wonder at his phone. Aerith was sad to see Zack go, but she was happy that she was able to give him the piece of paper. Zack folded it and stuffed it into his pocket without reading it. He smiled at her and turned to leave, but looked over his shoulder at the creature in the rafters one last time before he stepped out of the church.

_I'll never forget you . . ._

xxx


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Long chapter is long. Long author's note is long. Thank you to the people who are following and liking this story! It makes me happy. :D Events in this chapter are a combination of FFVII and Crisis Core script mongering. Oh, and my own twisted mind definitely comes into the picture.

For an illustration of Cloud's mom, go here: (http : / sarielperedhil. deviantart. Com

/art/ Cloud-s-Mom-83057290) –Just remove the spaces

Randomly, the name Miles means "soldier" in Latin.

And if anyone's interested, I can list the names of the songs where the lyrics I place in between breaks come from with the next chapter.

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_There's nowhere left to hide_

_In no one to confide_

_The truth burns deep inside_

_And will never die_

xxx

Part Six

xxx

Zack stepped out of the briefing room and leaned heavily on the wall beside the door.

_"Depending on what happens, I may abandon Shinra." _Those words had sent a wave of shock through him. Shinra was all Sephiroth knew—all Sephiroth had _ever_ known! But even with the shock of those words . . . Zack understood. Shinra . . . what did it all mean? Two years ago on the cusp of the end of the war with Wutai a solider on their side had questioned Zack about his loyalty to Shinra. The end of the war with Wutai and his mentor's death had served to make Zack wonder if the path he had chosen in life was the correct one. Everything seemed as though it was unraveling right under his eyes. A few days ago Cloud had threatened to leave Shinra and now Sephiroth was considering it. It all left a bad taste in Zack's mouth: the way Cloud had clung to him that other night as though they were on the verge of everything they had ever known being torn from under their feet, the way Sephiroth's eyes shielded a wall of sadness and regret.

It was likely that they would come across Genesis again. The thought of him made Zack's skin crawl. Whatever he had said to Angeal had made his mentor believe he was a monster. But it was Genesis who had killed his own parents in cold blood. It was _Genesis _who was the monster, _not_ Angeal. And yet Angeal's mother had taken her own life. Even after all that, Angeal had wanted to help Genesis, but not in the way he had originally thought. He wanted to . . . save him.

Angeal had wanted revenge. Revenge for what? The questions only brought Zack's mind in circles and he wondered what was behind Sephiroth's eyes, what it was that he was thinking, what it was that he _knew_ and Zack didn't. What exactly could make Shinra's top SOLDIER abandon everything? Was the answer as simple as Angeal and Genesis's secrecy? What else was hidden behind closed doors?

A terrible feeling of dread started to seep into Zack's heart and for a few moments he found it hard to even breathe. He knew he had to make sure that Aerith was being taken care of. Whatever was happening he knew it would be awhile before he saw her again. The thought sobered him, and suddenly he was running toward the elevator. He knew he had to talk to Tseng before he could leave, and he thought he knew where the mysterious Turk would be. He almost knocked Kunsel over in the hall, but the 2nd Class only stared after Zack. A few minutes later, when Zack was already on the train to Sector 5, the phone in his pocket made a noise and he knew instinctively that it would be an E-mail from Kunsel. He flipped it open and brought it up.

Hey Zack,

I know you're going on a mission with Sephiroth and that kid. Don't ask me how I know. I've got inside information, like always. You seemed pretty upset. I'm worried for you. Please take care.

Kunsel

Zack smiled and stored the message before closing the phone and slipping it back into his pocket. He stared out of the dirty train window over the city. It seemed barren of life and beauty and he once again yearned for Gongaga where the twisting spires of metal buildings that had unnerved Zack so often about Midgar were thankfully absent. Below the train tracks it looked like the metal structures went on and on for miles beyond the black void he stared into.

He found himself wondering what it would have been like for him if he hadn't chosen to leave his simple quiet country life for SOLDIER, but he knew there couldn't have been any other way. If he hadn't come to Midgar he'd probably become a mechanic like his father before him. It would have been ironic to spend his life fixing vehicles and never getting out into the world.

The travel that came along with being in SOLDIER was what attracted Zack the most. Like most boys in his town he wondered what the rest of the world was like, but he was the only one who ventured out of the protective bubble of the town hidden behind a thick forest. If he had never come to Midgar he would never have met Angeal. The thought of that alone made Zack's heart feel heavy. Even if Angeal had died thinking he was a monster, Zack liked who he had become through Angeal's guidance. How could ideals like honor and pride become twisted to him? SOLDIER meant so much to Zack because of the dreams he fostered there, because of the gentleness that Angeal had shown him buried in that tough but feeling heart. Who he was . . . it wasn't based on Shinra, but on his dreams and on the people who mattered to him. Could such things really be evil? He remembered what his mother had told him once, that people almost always meant well, even if they were terribly misguided in their actions. Did he believe that Doctor Hollander meant well? Did he believe that _Genesis_ meant well? Perhaps everyone always _started out_ meaning well. Wasn't there a saying for that? The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

The train suddenly came to an abrupt halt and jarred Zack out of his thoughts. The conductor announced over the static-heavy speaker that they had arrived at Sector 5. Zack stepped off the train and onto the platform. He looked around for a moment and then he hurried through the streets purposefully and when he came to his destination he spotted the Turk crouching behind the park slide. Even here twisted metal and sharp objects lay everywhere like pieces of broken dreams. Zack's eyes fell uneasily on Tseng and he wasn't surprised to see the Turk slowly rise off his haunches as he looked in Zack's direction. Zack could see Aerith at the end of the park talking to a little boy, her expression bright. His heart lifted to see her with the flower wagon. He didn't focus on her long because he knew he had to get back to headquarters. He walked toward Tseng and before he could even open his mouth the Turk had waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about Aerith," he said, eyes guarded. "Protecting the subject is part of surveillance duty." He didn't know why, but Zack felt like he could trust Tseng with Aerith's safety, and not just because it was the man's job to protect her. It was a strange feeling to trust a Turk with anything, but somehow he felt as though he and Aerith had a strange rapport.

"You're the only one . . . I can depend on," Zack said softly as he averted his eyes. He hated to admit it, but who else did he know who could look after Aerith? Tseng looked at Zack and tilted his head quizzically, realizing Zack's embarrassment. He laughed softly, unable to contain his mirth at seeing the helpless slump to the SOLDIER's shoulders. "H-hey! Why are you laughing?" Zack's whole body swung into his question, frustrated because he knew the Turk wouldn't answer him. Perhaps it was better that way. Zack needed to get going—he didn't want to keep Sephiroth waiting too long.

"I'm counting on you," Zack said, eyebrows furrowed and gloved finger pointing toward the Turk. With that he ran off and left Tseng to stare after him in a puzzled manner.

When Zack returned to headquarters he rode the elevator up to the SOLDIER floor, glad to have gotten Aerith's protection in order. With that out of the way he could focus on Cloud's protection. The uneasy feeling that surrounded the mission for him was far from out of his mind. His boots hit the smooth marble floor and echoed as he walked down the hall. He saw a cadet whip his head around up ahead. Zack watched as the helmet was removed to reveal a head of spiky blond hair and a genuine smile came to his face as he rushed in to grab Cloud and pull him into a headlock. Cloud responded the way he always did by squirming and twisting his way out of Zack's hands. His cheeks looked flushed as he looked around nervously.

"Z-zack," Cloud whispered. "You didn't tell me you picked my roommate to come on the mission with us."

"Who, Miles? He's all right. Besides, anyone would be on their best behavior with me and Sephiroth around," Zack winked. "And I picked him because I was hoping that he'd get along with you better after the mission. He told me that you intimidate him a little."

"I-intimidate? Me?" Cloud laughed incredulously. Zack only smiled.

"He says you're way too serious. He doesn't know how to relax around you." Zack walked around Cloud, bending slightly so his eyes were level with the blond's. "I think I agree. How about you give me a smile?"

"O-oh," Cloud said, staring at his boots as he scratched at the back of his head, cheeks red. He slowly raised his head and smiled at Zack. "I missed you. Where have you been these last few days?"

"There's no time to talk about it," Zack said as he shook his head. "You should go find Miles. Don't want to keep Sephiroth waiting."

"R-right," Cloud nodded, suddenly looking sick at his idol's name. Zack smiled and slapped Cloud's rear as he went scrambling off, but not before casting a mockingly hateful glare at Zack. It was strange to Zack how he could feel that Cloud was like the little brother he never had and at the same time be . . . more than that to him. But then Angeal had always said Zack was like the son he never had. Angeal wasn't old enough to be Zack's father, but he certainly did act like he was at times. Zack didn't think about it too long, too afraid of what he might uncover about himself. Instead he took the stairs a flight up and sought Sephiroth out in the briefing room. He was sitting at the desk and pouring over the pictures again. He raised his eyes up off the contents of the folder and settled the blue-green orbs on Zack.

"Are we ready?" Sephiroth asked, his voice even and lacking the subtle hint of emotion that he had heard in it earlier.

"Nearly. I had Cloud go get the other cadet." Zack looked like he wanted to say something else so Sephiroth cocked his head in that quizzical manner Zack had become accustomed to and which usually meant Sephiroth was interested. "They're very excited to meet you." Sephiroth smiled a little and closed the folder, turning over to the computer by his side.

"Ah, camera twenty-four in the parking lot is registering that the truck has just arrived. Hurry them along."

"Understood," Zack said, walking backwards a few steps before he turned on his heels and rushed out of the room. Zack found the two cadets around the corner standing casually, but they both stood at attention once Zack approached. Miles still had his helmet on, but a brilliant red shock of hair was trailing down his back that easily identified him. Cloud still hadn't put his helmet back on; it was resting on his hip and keeping his hands from shaking. The rifles attached to both the cadets had been shined to a luster and their boots and shin guards practically gleamed. Zack couldn't help but smile at the two.

"Any last words before I call the General?" Zack asked.

"Yes," Miles laughed. "With all due respect, sir, I think I might shit my pants." Zack only laughed as he took out his phone and flipped it open. He saw the cadets exchange a look of absolute terror and resisted the urge to pump his fists in the air. His plan was working. Nothing could bond two awkward teenagers together like their mutual admiration and fear of Sephiroth.

"Ready on this end," Zack said in an important tone. There was a moment's pause before he snapped the phone shut again and rested at Miles's side. When they heard footsteps coming down the hall both men shot up so rigidly that Zack had to snicker behind a closed fist. Sephiroth stopped before the cadets and looked them over.

"Cadets Strife and Medcaf, General Sephiroth." Sephiroth nodded at the two cadets and turned his attention to Zack who had stepped closer to the silver-haired General in order to ask what he should have asked in the briefing room. "By the way, where are we going?"

"To Nibelheim," Sephiroth stated simply. Zack saw the look of utter terror that swept over Cloud's features and so did Sephiroth. The General gave the boy a strange questioning look but didn't bother to inquire about his reaction. Zack on the other hand was itching to ask. His own reaction was one of surprise, but it was a happy sort of surprise because he was instantly struck by how it might be sort of fun to see Cloud's hometown, but clearly the cadet was mortified. He would need to ask the blond about it later, possibly on the truck, though Sephiroth would hear them even if they spoke softly. Patience wasn't a virtue Zack was very familiar with, and though that was something that often annoyed Angeal about his student, it was also what endeared Zack to him. If Sephiroth was annoyed by Zack's restless nature, he never expressed it. It was hard to truly read what the General thought of him, but clearly if he was willing to go out of his way several times over the two years since Angeal's death to meet up with Zack and "check up on him" he must have cared in one way or another. Zack thought it must have been a lot easier to just check his file in the Shinra database and was even bold enough to tell Sephiroth this, but the General had only smiled in his guarded way and told him "I have orders from an old friend."

The road to Nibelheim was treacherous and bumpy, jostling its riders inside. As they drove out of Midgar the sky opened up and threatening clouds roiled like an avenging army across the heavens. Each time the thunder cracked Zack could see Cloud's back twitch. His pale skin had turned a shade of green not unlike uncultivated mako. Cheery music played over the stereo even as fat drops of water splattered down onto the windshield. The driver's incessant whistling drifted around the four men in the back. Each of them sat on a crate filled with ammo and Materia except for Zack who was pacing around the perimeter of the truck. The driver switched on the windshield wipers as the drops of water grew in number and rain started to pour heavily down onto the truck. After a while of staring out at the rain and growing restless, Zack bounced on the balls of his feet.

"It sure is raining hard," he said, speaking to no one in particular. Sephiroth only tilted his head back a little. Miles appeared to be sleeping with his hands propped on his rifle. Zack walked over to Cloud. He felt sorry for him, having forgotten that he often got motion sickness.

"Cloud," Zack whispered, placing his hand on the slightly trembling back. "Are you okay?" Cloud only shook his head a little and sunk down lower into himself, perhaps wishing he could disappear rather than look this weak in front of General Sephiroth.

"I'm all right," Cloud muttered softly, his voice strained.

"I wouldn't know . . . never had motion sickness." He realized that Cloud was shrinking back from his hand. Zack didn't back off and instead started to rub between the boy's shoulder blades, bending lower to whisper in Cloud's ear. "I need to ask you something about . . ."

"Not now. Please." Cloud's voice sounded even more strained and Zack could see that he was clutching at the wall of the truck and attempting to quiet the spasms of his stomach. Zack stood and shook his head, walking over to Miles. He had noticed him stir while he talked to Cloud and he was now trying to steal looks at Sephiroth from across the truck.

"Everything okay with you?" Zack asked. Miles looked up at Zack quickly and nodded, his cheeks a red that almost served to match his hair color. The cadet quickly stared down hard at his boots and curled around his rifle. Zack smiled and walked toward the center of the truck. Sephiroth looked up from his folded hands and shook his head.

"Hey."

Zack twirled to look in Sephiroth's direction, nearly stumbling directly into the General's lap when the truck rolled over a particularly large bump.

"Settle down." Sephiroth's eyes twinkled a little. There was a certain amount of fondness there. Zack smiled wide and swung his arms back, lowering himself onto his powerful legs and pushing himself back up as he swung his arms back down. He was fond of doing squat thrusts whenever it was unbearably boring around or there was just too much on his mind. And even though he was technically defying an order from his superior, Sephiroth only continued to shake his head in an almost amused manner.

"They gave me new Materia," Zack said excitedly over the sound of the fuzzy radio and the pounding rain. "I can't wait to use it." He had forced the bad feelings about the mission out of his mind by this point and was actually looking forward to a little action after the weeks cooped up and contained by walls.

" . . . Just like a kid," Sephiroth said, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "Or perhaps a restless puppy."

"H-hey," Zack pouted. "You know about that nickname?" Sephiroth only arched a delicate silver brow and shook his head again. "So . . . you going to brief the cadets about the mission?" Sephiroth nodded, silver hair sliding over his shoulder guard before he looked toward Cloud.

"I was waiting for Cadet Strife to feel a bit better."

Cloud turned slightly and removed his hand from his stomach, trying the best he could to appear all right.

"Please brief us, sir. I'm all right." Cloud raised his shoulders back and forced his expression to become blank. Zack shot Cloud a worried look but he didn't look back at him so Zack shrugged and continued to perform his squat thrusts.

"Very well then," Sephiroth said. "This isn't a typical mission." Miles looked up from his feet and allowed himself to look at the General. Zack stopped moving and walked toward Sephiroth, curious to see what he was going to say to the cadets. "Our mission is to investigate the old Mako reactor in Nibelheim. There have been reports of it malfunctioning and creating large posits of pure Mako energy. The beasts have been drinking from these posits . . . and becoming . . . abominations of nature." Here Sephiroth looked out of the windshield, his eyes staring out beyond the mountains in the distance. "First we will dispose of those . . . creatures . . . and then . . ." he paused for a few moments and turned his head toward to two cadets. "Then we will neutralize the problem at its source."

"Abominations," Cloud whispered wonderingly at the floor.

"Hometown," Sephiroth said as if tasting the word, his eyes focusing on Cloud's for a mere few seconds before they were far off once more. Cloud looked puzzled and stared past Sephiroth toward Zack, but Zack only shrugged his shoulders, beyond comprehension of the mysterious man.

It wasn't long before they arrived at Nibelheim. The sky cleared up a bit, but there was a heavy mist surrounding everything and the driver cursed as he eased the truck through it and parked just outside of an ornate black gate. When the still-cursing man scrambled from his seat to open the back of the truck Zack jumped out first, flipping into the air and posing just outside. Sephiroth stepped out of the truck and raised an eyebrow at Zack as he walked toward the gate ahead of the younger man. A Shinra guard already stationed in Nibelheim—one of the last who still lived to tell the tale about the beasts—was on the opposite side of the gate and opened it slowly for the General. The two cadets stepped out of the truck and passed Zack to enter the town. The raven-haired SOLDIER was drinking in the sight of Cloud's hometown. There was something about it that made Zack feel tremendously uneasy and he wondered how much of it had to do with the cloying mist and the dark mountains looming over the quiet town. He also wondered how much had to do with what might be lurking in these parts and whether they were beasts or men.

Sephiroth stopped just inside of the entrance to the town and Cloud and Miles fell at ease by either side of the gate. The guard who was already stationed there saluted the General stiffly.

"At ease," Sephiroth said dismissively, turning around to face Cloud.

"How does it feel?" He asked. Cloud had placed his helmet back on during the course of the truck ride, but Sephiroth could tell which of the guards he was simply by the difference in height and body shape compared to his fellow infantryman. Miles had tucked his fire-red hair away into his neckerchief and was gripping at the rifle in his thigh holster.

"It's your first time back to your hometown in a long time, right? So how does it feel?" Sephiroth stared up past the town and toward the Mako reactor looming in the distance high above. "I wouldn't know because I don't have a hometown . . ."

"Uhm, how about parents?" Zack asked as he walked toward Sephiroth. He had never seen Sephiroth so willing to volunteer information about himself, especially not in front of cadets.

"My mother's name is Jenova," Sephiroth said thoughtfully as he turned around. "She died right after I was born. My father . . ." Sephiroth's voice tapered off into a laugh. " Why am I talking about this? Let's go." He walked forward into the town. Everything seemed still . . . too still for what Sephiroth had said earlier about the monsters lurking around. Zack watched as the guards slowly and cautiously moved after their silver-haired General.

"Sephiroth's mother's name is Jenova?" Zack said softly to himself. Something about that seemed strange to Zack, but he couldn't put it together and so he filed it into the back of his mind and walked into the town after the two guards who had scattered while Sephiroth walked into the inn at the center of the town. Zack wandered over to Cloud and figured now was his time to ask questions.

"What's going on with you?" Zack asked. Cloud took his hands off his rifle and was adjusting his helmet, making sure every lock of hair was hidden.

"Please don't say my name here or bring me to anyone's attention." The tone to Cloud's voice sounded desperate.

"A-all right, but ya gotta tell me what's got ya so spooked." Zack looked down into the visor hiding Cloud's eyes and sighed.

"I'll tell you later. Just . . . please. No one can know I'm here." Zack shrugged and walked away from Cloud more confused than ever. He made his way over to Miles who was standing beside one of the shops and waved him over.

"Yes, sir?"

"Shall we practice?" Zack asked.

"Practice? Oh, you mean practice my pose? Does someone in SOLDIER always have to be careful about what other people think? Hmm, how did it go?" He paused and removed his rifle from its holster, slowly spinning it in the air with his other hand cocked on his hip. "Was it like that?" Zack couldn't see the boy's eyes behind the visor, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.

"Good job!" Zack said, punching at the air and then lightly tapping the cadet's arm with his fist.

"Can I tell you a secret, sir?" Miles asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Zack nodded.

"I don't really want to be in SOLDIER, but my father . . . it was his dream, but he's too old now. Do you think it's strange to live out someone else's dreams?" The cadet kicked at a rock on the ground and shrugged. "Sorry." Zack only squeezed the cadet's arm and shook his head.

"Just sit tight over here. I'll come back every once in a while to talk to you, okay?" With that Zack wandered back over to where Cloud was stationed outside the inn, looking up at the vast scene before him. With so much mist and gray sky framed by black mountain it looked like Nibelheim was floating over black crashing waves. Below, the town seemed as though it was really a ghost town. There were hardly any townspeople on the streets.

He couldn't tell if Cloud was looking at him behind the thick visor of his helmet, but somehow Zack knew that he was. He wandered a little farther into the town and stared into the windows of the austere little houses. There was something distinctly timeless about the town. A strange chemical scent clung to Zack and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He turned slightly and caught someone looking back at him. He was about to turn away, but he realized that he was looking into a pair of very familiar-looking clear blue eyes. They were slightly darker and tinged with gray, but they were uncannily similar and looked sad and strangely haunted. Zack found himself staring even as those eyes fell slightly hidden in the shadows, a tumble of long golden hair framed in that darkness. The look of disappointment was very familiar to Zack. On many of his missions he had seen the desperate eyes of mothers hopeful for the return of their sons, but there was something different about these eyes. They seemed afraid. Afraid of _him_ . . . and fascinated by him at the same time. He watched as the woman behind those haunting eyes clasped her fingers around a brooch pinned to her white blouse and then saw her recede from the window and disappear altogether. The room he could see in the window glowed a soft orange, possibly from the hearth inside, but he no longer saw the beautiful woman with the long golden hair.

"The mako smell is pretty bad here," he heard Sephiroth say behind him. Zack hadn't heard Sephiroth coming up behind him, but he wasn't surprised. "Anyway, I've checked us in. We leave for the reactor at dawn. Make sure you get to sleep early. All we need is one lookout, so you others . . . get some rest."

"I've got everything covered here," the guard at the gate said.

"Oh, that's right." Sephiroth stopped just by the door at the inn. "You may visit your family and friends." With that, he opened the door and disappeared inside.

Zack looked back at the window he had seen the woman in, but now it was completely dark and the orange glow was gone. Zack frowned and stalked over to Cloud. Cloud shrunk back a little, surprised by the expression on Zack's face.

"Let's . . . let's go visit your family." Zack's expression softened a little, but he seemed agitated.

"Please, Zack," Cloud shook his head. "You . . . You don't understand." Zack was about to object when Miles walked over.

"Hey guys, I'm pretty tired, so I hope you don't mind if I go and turn in. I want to be refreshed for the morning." Zack looked at Miles briefly and nodded. Miles saluted Zack and rushed off into the inn. There was a heavy silence between the mentor and student once they were left alone.

"You didn't tell me your mother was so young," Zack whispered just loud enough for Cloud to hear. He got the distinct feeling that Cloud was seething behind the helmet, but he would press forward anyway.

"My mother . . . you saw her?" Cloud's head dropped toward the ground.

"She was looking out her window. You look so much like her . . ."

"I guess I owe it to her to see her. Though . . . like this . . ." Cloud looked up at the sky and held out his hand as it started to rain again. A fat drop fell onto his visor and split into smaller droplets that fanned out and fell onto Cloud's face. "Zack . . . c-can you come with me?"

"She looked so scared," Zack said. "Like . . . like she's afraid of us for being with Shinra. But I guess I understand. It's 'cause of that reactor that things are so screwed up here." Zack paused for a moment and then he nodded. "Yeah, let's go." Cloud looked around and tugged on Zack's loose-fitting fatigues.

"Let's go around the back. So no one notices us."

Zack went first. His steps were cautious as he approached. Around the back there was a large open area fenced in by the same ornate design at the entrance. The smell of chicken dung clung to Zack's nostrils, but there was also the sweet smell of lush green springing from cracked black earth.

Cloud's mother was standing by the chicken coop and tossing handfuls of corn from her apron. When she turned around she froze, hair falling over one eye as she stared at Zack.

"H-hello, ma'am. Please don't be frightened. I've come to tell you that I'm here with your son Cloud." The woman's eyes widened and a pretty smile ghosted over her lips.

"Cloud? My little Cloud?" She was nearly breathless as she tucked her apron up into her belt to save the corn in the folds there. She closed the door to the chicken coop and looked up at Zack, the same fear returning to her eyes as she took in the cold glow in his eyes that was mako. "Are his eyes . . . like yours?" Zack shook his head, used to the way people stared at his eyes. They were the mark of SOLDIER and instilled fear and awe into many people's hearts.

"Not yet," Zack said.

"You . . . don't look like a monster," the woman whispered, barely audible.

"Monster?" Zack asked, his brows furrowed.

"Oh, forgive me," her cheeks turned a slightly rosy color. "It's just that . . . the way some people talk about SOLDIER . . . I was worried about my son. Is he okay, Mister . . ."

"Fair. Zack Fair."

"My son, he's turning sixteen in three months," she said, folding her hands in front of her apron. Her hands were rough with work. It looked like it took a lot of hard work to till the earth in Nibelheim. "The last letter I got from him . . . he was still fourteen. I thought . . ." The rain started to ease off again and the sky looked a little less gray above them.

"Cloud's all right," Zack said softly. "He's just being a little difficult. He doesn't want to come in until we're both inside."

"O-oh, well, I've got a stew cooking. I bet you're both very hungry." She raised a hand up and tucked unruly golden locks behind her ear before walking toward the back entrance.

"Yes, ma'am! If you don't mind that is. I'm Cloud's mentor back in Midgar." Zack saw her turn around and look at the hand he reached out for her to shake. She continued to look at his hand for a few moments before her eyes slid back up to rest on his face. She took his hand and shook it gently before retreating into the house. "If you don't mind my saying so, ma'am, you look awfully young to be Cloud's mother."

"I had Cloud when I was thirteen," she said in a small voice as she walked into the kitchen. The delicious smell of meat and potatoes filled Zack's senses and he let the warmth of the kitchen seep into his stiff limbs.

"T-thirteen? You were still a child yourself."

"Mmm," Cloud's mother sighed. "It wasn't my choice. Still, having Cloud was the best thing that's happened to me."

"Ma'am, I'll go get Cloud." Zack stepped away with an uneasy feeling in his gut.

"My name is Thora," she said softly after Zack. He nodded and repeated the name before he ducked out of the building to search for Cloud. He found him standing on the side of the building looking even paler than he remembered him.

"Cloud? Your mom wants us to come and eat dinner with her. She misses you terribly."

"I-I know," Cloud muttered as he shifted off the wall and began walking toward the back entrance. Zack followed close behind, eyes on Cloud's uneasy posture.

"H-hello, mom," Cloud said softly as he entered the kitchen.

"Cloud! Welcome home my little Cloud." Zack got the distinct and painful feeling that he was interrupting something not meant for his eyes. The thought of his own father and mother made his eyes sting a little. It had been so long since he had seen their faces and heard their voices. He sent them letters from time to time, but he knew how his parents were. They were probably worrying themselves over him, flinching at every piece of news pertaining to SOLDIER that came through the remote town.

"Come, come . . . let me get a look at you." Cloud shot Zack an exasperated look as his mother circled around him slowly to take in how her son had changed. Zack only gave Cloud a reassuring smile and stood off to the side looking around at everything. The house was small and there was only one room, though the ceiling was high and vaulted with rich-smelling wood. The same timeless feeling pervaded everything in the tiny house.

"You look so handsome," Cloud's mom smiled. She looked over at Zack. "I bet the girls never leave him alone." Zack couldn't stop the smirk from forming on his lips. Zack wasn't a girl, but he had quite a hard time leaving Cloud alone.

"Not . . . really," Cloud mumbled. The woman who had introduced herself as Thora Strife was pacing around the kitchen area and serving the two men a generous portion of her stew.

"I'm worried about you, you know." The next part she whispered for only Cloud to hear, but Zack could hear her with his enhanced hearing. "There are many temptations in the city. If I can't be there to look after you, I'd like very much for you to have a nice girlfriend . . . an older girlfriend who can take care of you."

"Don't worry, Misses Strife. Cloud is being taken care of," Zack interrupted. Thora looked over at the SOLDIER standing in the corner and ushered him over.

"You boys should eat before the food gets cold."

An hour later Cloud was prying his mother's hands off his wrist.

"I'm sorry mom, but I'm here on duty with Zack. I need to leave." Zack was about to offer Cloud the option of staying with his mother for the night, but the way Cloud was itching to leave was apparent to him. It was understandable why his mother was smothering him, but Zack got the distinct impression that she had always been this way with Cloud, perhaps to fill the void that was in her life, the void that had been put there by the Shinra Company. The more Zack saw, the harder it became for him to watch.

"Cloud," Thora pleaded, eyes wet and tears staining her cheeks. "I will always be your mother."

Cloud pulled away from his mother, her hair falling away from Cloud's shoulder and settling back against her sides. The tears only continued to roll down her cheeks.

"Please write to me, Cloud. You're still my baby. Still my little Cloud." Her hands trembled as she stepped forward again to cup Cloud's face in her hands. He flinched a little but let her.

"I'll write. Good night, mom." He turned and walked toward the front entrance, but not before replacing the helmet on his head and thoroughly tucking all his hair inside of it. Zack gave the woman a nervous glance and smiled at her softly, muttering his thanks for the meal. She only stared into space and so Zack quickly walked out the door with Cloud.

"Hey, your mom is a good cook," Zack said to break Cloud's silence.

"I'm sorry," Cloud muttered. "My mom . . . she's a very strong woman, but . . . after what happened with dad . . . I think she snapped a little."

"What happened?" Zack ventured.

"Not sure . . . he died before I was born I think. She never did talk about it beyond giving me that same explanation over and over. I think she resents me for leaving for Midgar. Anyway . . . do you see . . . why this is hard for me?"

"Starting to see it, yeah," Zack said sympathetically. He didn't have the heart to tell Cloud what he had already figured out about Cloud's father. It was too sad, too twisted. It was better that Cloud didn't know . . . to spare him.

_"I don't want to do it, but if you insist, my little Cloud, I'll do it because I want you to be happy." It pained Thora to have to cut her son's hair, but he was about to enlist in Shinra's Cadet Program and Cloud had wanted a change. He had wanted to feel more like an adult and cutting his hair was a big step for him. It was like shedding his childhood. She took the scissors into her hands and tried to still the trembling in her fingers. Carefully she cut a mere inch above the ponytail and reverently placed it into Cloud's hands. She carefully snipped a bit around the back of Cloud's head and ears before circling around him to appreciate her work. _

_"You look so different," she whispered, smoothing the hair at the sides of Cloud's face. _

_"Here, mom," Cloud held his hand out and pressed the severed ponytail into his mother's hand. Thora laid the scissors onto the counter of her kitchen and hugged the hair to her chest. "You keep it, so that when you're lonely . . . you can think of me and know you're not alone." _

Before Cloud walked into the inn with Zack he looked over his shoulder and saw his mother in the window clutching a ponytail to her chest.

xxx


	7. Chapter 7

**_Warnings:_** Uhm, actually, no warnings! This part is devoid of angst, shockingly! I do feel sorry for Miles, though. His last night alive and he's snoring through Zack/Cloud. Tsk tsk. I feel bad that I have to kill him off. Hey, it's canon.

**_Author's Note: _**Ok, this part is shorter than the last two parts, but I've been pounding the angst on so hard that I figured I needed to reward you guys with some fluffiness right before the shit literally hits the fan. I'll be continuing on through to the end of Crisis Core and expanding on things, so the fic. is not over yet! But it will probably be hard to read because we all know what's coming up and how hard it will be on poor Zack and Cloud. / I have a huge ol' stinkin' soft spot for insane!Sephiroth, so, uhm, this will be interesting.

**_Songs at the beginning of each part:_**

Part 1: Vast – Desert Garden

Part 2: Vast – Desert Garden

Part 3: Vast – Desert Garden, The Mars Volta – The Widow

Part 4: Vast – Lost

Part 5: Vast – Desert Garden

Part 6: Muse – Sing for Absolution

Part 7: HYDE – New Days Dawn

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_Do you really know the truth?_

_It only has one face_

_Even if you die - you've no clue_

_That man standing by your side_

_Perhaps he knows the truth_

_But it may not exist at all_

_Why pray to the light_

_When darkness conceives it_

xxx

Part Seven

xxx

"What is the General staring at, Zack?" Cloud whispered. Zack paused on the stairs, his hand stretched out to hold the younger boy back. From the halfway point up the stairs Zack could see Sephiroth standing at the window in the hall with his hand against the glass. A shiver ran down his spine as his mind recalled the chilling song Sephiroth had played in his office just a week ago, how the silver-haired man had stood at the window staring down at Midgar with that strange look in his eyes. Zack lowered his arm and whispered for Cloud to go off to bed, that he would join him shortly. Cloud walked up the rest of the steps ahead of Zack and gave Sephiroth a look hidden behind his visor before passing into the darkness of their room. Zack stepped close to Sephiroth, resisting the urge to place his hand on his shoulder.

"What are you looking at?" Zack stared at the side of Sephiroth's face and was surprised to find a frown tugging the man's lips downward.

"This scenery," he breathed out in a voice so soft it sounded almost like a whisper. His hand dropped at his side and his back straightened into rigidity. "I feel like I know this place." He stared down at his hand as if it would offer him knowledge. Zack was about to say something when Sephiroth shook his head and stepped away from the window. "We have an early start tomorrow. You should get some sleep soon." His eyes never left his hand as he turned and walked slowly toward the room opposite of where Cloud had gone into. He paused before entering, looking back at Zack before speaking again. "I've hired a guide to take us to the Mako Reactor. I've heard she's young. I hope we can rely on her."

Before Sephiroth disappeared into the room Zack could literally feel the weight of Sephiroth's restless mind. He stood there looking out of the window even after the man left, trying to grasp something from the scenery. It took him a while, but then he saw a large mansion just beyond the town. In the gate's design he could see Shinra's logo. He stepped away from the window and looked toward Sephiroth's room, shaking his head.

"Damn it," Zack sighed. The look on Sephiroth's face . . . what did it mean? He tried to push it out of his mind as best he could. The mere thought of growing up in the grasp of Shinra chilled him to the bone, and he was not surprised that he couldn't seem to understand anything about the silver-haired man. Sephiroth was a mystery to him, and it was likely that he would always be one.

Zack opened the door to the room he would be sharing with Miles and Cloud, his mind trying to pull itself toward the idea of sleep. The room was mostly dark, though everything was framed in half-light from the window. Zack focused first on Miles—his sleeping form was huddled on the bed against the back wall by the window. It had started to rain again gently and the curtains billowed around him, though the sleeping boy didn't seem to mind. The room was sized modestly—it would probably have to be with three beds in it, small though they were. It was a nice room considering all the dumps Zack had stayed in before. Satisfied with his perusal of the room, the 1st Class finally allowed himself to focus on Cloud, who was quietly and slowly removing his armor and belts. His rifle already lay in the corner propped up against the bedside table. Zack's eyes drifted over Cloud's body, amazed the younger man hadn't stopped out of modesty once he felt the other man's eyes on him. Zack couldn't see the boy's face—it was obscured by his blond mess of hair and he found himself wanting to walk over and brush it out of his eyes so he might see him. He unsheathed his Buster sword and stared at the handle for a few moments before resting it gently against the corner and walking silently toward Cloud. He sat beside the boy, bouncing gently to test the bed, smiling mischievously as he realized that it didn't creak. Cloud tugged the last of the leather straps away from his uniform and tossed everything in a heap on the floor by his rifle before turning to face Zack. He looked up into the older man's eyes, finding the way they glowed in the half-light intriguing and frightening at the same time. Zack's eyes softened a little as he looked back at Cloud and realized the boy was examining every feature of his face, including the scar. Cloud lifted his hand up and touched Zack's cheek, stroking against the mark that marred the man's otherwise smooth skin.

"Will you tell me about the scar one day?" Cloud whispered, leaning toward Zack as if he was drawn to do so. Zack smiled and took Cloud's fingers into his own leather-clad ones, kissing the tips of each one before letting them go like sand falling away. Cloud looked uneasy, his eyes darting back toward where Miles's sleeping form lay, but Zack only laughed softy and moved toward the edge of the bed so he could bend his body and remove his heavy boots. Cloud seemed to remember his own boots and bent beside Zack to unlace and wiggle his feet out of the constricting leather. When he was done he picked them up off the ground and walked over to the outside edge of the bedside table, placing them beside Zack's sword. He stared at it for a few moments before he was startled by the feeling of Zack behind him. He felt every little hair on his body raise and a tiny thrill went through him as the man wrapped his arms around the smaller boy. Cloud turned in the embrace and took Zack's boots from him, placing them beside his own, but not before casting a worried look in Miles's direction.

"Shh," Zack hushed. Cloud looked startled by the needless sound . . . until he felt Zack's lips on his own. He wanted to melt into that kiss, wanted to let it claim him, but fear overrode his desire. He gently squirmed away from Zack's arms and gave him an apologetic look as he stepped back toward the bed, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Zack smiled and walked around the bed toward his own, turning away from Cloud with feigned modesty as he removed everything but his sweater and fatigues. Finally he turned and smiled to catch Cloud's eyes peering out of the blanket raised just over his mouth. He was about to climb into his own bed when Cloud scooted back and took the blanket away from his mouth. Zack's eyes gleamed as he slid in beside him and draped the blankets around them, drawing his head in to kiss Cloud slowly, his fingers—now bare—brushing against the soft baby hairs at the back of his neck. Cloud shivered, kissing back with need. Both knew that what they were doing was foolish, but it felt too good to press against one another's warmth, to feel that connection with another human being.

They could hear Miles snoring softly and listened for it even as they surrendered to heated kisses. Zack moved his hand just outside Cloud's pants, but the blond shook his head and sheepishly placed his hand over the bulge between Zack's legs, squeezing softly. Zack bit his bottom lip, staring down into Cloud's eyes as he felt the hand stroke and squeeze over his clothed erection. The sound of his zipper being lowered was loud in the quiet room and Zack nearly gasped when he felt that soft hand slide into his boxers. Cloud was grateful when Zack's lips pressed heatedly against his own—stroking Zack and feeling the fabric of his boxers at the back of his wrist as his hand moved inside the older man's pants was enough to make him dizzy, and the way those hooded mako eyes stared into his own with obvious pleasure made him throb with need. Zack pressed his face against Cloud's shirt, pulling it open a bit so that he could suck and kiss his pale skin. The boy pressed his eyes closed, sheer will making the sounds die in his throat before they were voiced in the bedroom. Zack looked up at Cloud and kissed his jaw before unzipping his pants and sliding his hand inside. His other hand clamped around Cloud's mouth, knowing that he would be unable to hold back the moan that was sure to slip out. Zack was sad to cover up those beautiful noises, but he didn't want them to get caught. However soundly Miles seemed to be sleeping, he knew he wouldn't be able to explain away what the other cadet would see if he would just open his eyes.

When they came, Zack tried to focus on the way Cloud's lashes fluttered, the way his breathing was harsh against his palm. It was all he could do to keep from groaning, and that seemed pretty damn counterproductive. For a brief moment after he surrendered to the feeling ripping through his body, he saw Angeal's face above him and he tried to close his eyes to preserve it, but the image had already fled. He opened his eyes again and felt Cloud's fingers tracing his scar reverently. Again he took Cloud's fingers in his own and kissed the tips. When he moved away, he only went far enough to grab the tissues that were thankfully on the nightstand and used them to first clean Cloud up and then himself. He shifted a little and walked softly to the bathroom to get rid of their evidence and then he returned and slid into his own bed. Cloud's hand sought his out across the way and Zack grasped the lithe fingers tightly as if to say "I'm never letting go".

"Your mom said she wanted someone older to protect you," Zack whispered. "I'm older."

"She also said she wanted that person to be a _girl_friend," Cloud returned, squeezing Zack's fingers back. It was getting darker, but he could still see most of his mentor's face and that soft black hair that fell over his shoulders was framed in a light that made it seem to glow softly around his head.

"I'm your friend, right?" Zack asked. Cloud nodded, a smile playing at the sides of his lips. "Then what does it matter what I've got between my legs?" He was careful to ask this part in a voice Cloud could barely hear. It made him smile fully. "Good night, Cloud," he whispered as he gently withdrew his hand and closed his eyes. Cloud sighed happily and snuggled into the blanket, examining Zack's features in the fading light until he dropped off to sleep.

xxx

_He knew it was a dream, could feel himself in that half-conscious state between sleeping and waking, and yet he couldn't will himself to break away from it. He was standing on the dry cracked earth of a crag overlooking a menacing view of Midgar. The skies surrounding the city swirled as if the heavens were in a deep turmoil and Zack shuddered as he felt the air grow cold around him. He felt icy fingers probe his skin like needles, his veins throbbing hotly beneath his skin. He stepped forward and broke into a run but the icy grip was everywhere and the wasteland before him was too broad, too open, his body too susceptible._

_The air stilled, the icy needles replaced by the feeling of warmth seeping into his limbs. A single white feather drifted down and he looked up at it as it settled in his palm. It rustled softly and before he could close his fingers around it and keep it near, it blew away and more feathers drifted down. The wind picked up, but it was different than before. It was gentle, serene, and Zack could feel it brush against his arms as if it were a lover's soft touch. The feathers spun around Zack, obscuring his vision of Midgar in the distance. Above he could see the darkened clouds slowly become bathed in warm light, but then thunder crashed along the sky and lightning split the warm air apart. Zack shielded himself as blinding light filled his vision and when it finally ebbed away, he drew his arm back and saw a bloody black wing fold from seemingly nowhere around him. It was bigger than he was, drawing him inside like a cave closing him off from the world._

_"Za-ack," a male voice called. It sounded as though it had been calling him forever and there was slight exasperation in it, though it was mostly warm. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. "Zack. Time to wake up. Time to focus." The last part was stern, but not without its caring undertones. _

"Angeal?" Zack slowly opened his eyes, half expecting to look up into his mentor's soft blue-gray eyes. But the eyes he saw above him were as clear as the water in Costa del Sol with no hint of the glow of mako whatsoever. They flashed with some brief emotion, but then they softened.

"Sephiroth is waiting for us."

xxx


	8. Chapter 8

**Warnings:** Spoilers for Crisis Core? But that's pretty obvious. The whole fic. is one big spoiler if you haven't played CC. Oh, and it was actually fun writing Genesis, though I suppose that's not a warning. Uhm, angst ahead, but with some more Zack/Cloud fluff at the end.

**Author's note:** Ok, so I'm schizophrenic with the length of my story parts. This part is 20 pages in Word and almost 10K words long. It's the longest part yet. I hope I pulled it off. Please don't hate me? :D Oh! And if you've been thinking that Cloud's kind of a pansy so far, hopefully you'll appreciate him in this part. I was trying to show that he actually—you know—_has_ a pair.

**PS:** This is going to be the last part for two-three weeks. I have to crack down and do school assignments I've been procrastinating. XD;

**And now I'm going to plead you guys for reviews.** I see you lurking, lurkers! If you see anything glaringly wrong, weird, etc., please let me know. And of course let me know if you like this fic.!

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_Honey honey, up in the trees_

_Fill the flowers deep in his dreams_

_Lead them out to sea by the east_

_Honey honey, food for the bees_

xxx

Part Eight

xxx

The dream unnerved Zack badly, but it needed to be pushed out of his mind. It wasn't all that hard to do, not anymore—he had been pushing things out of his head since he had become a SOLDIER 1st Class. It had become a routine for him, almost to the point where he wondered when he would ever have the time to deal with it all.

They found Sephiroth standing in front of the gate to the Shinra mansion. The road beyond sloped up steeply and Zack could make out a crude winding path leading up into the mountain above. He stepped close to Sephiroth and looked up briefly toward the mansion. The sight of it gave him the chills. It looked like it hadn't been taken care of in years. The windows in each of the high towers looked like the eyes of a menacing demon and Zack could swear he saw something—someone—moving in one of those windows. A cold glow, a force biding its time. What was it waiting for?

"Once the guide gets here we're moving out," Sephiroth said. Zack was never gladder to hear that flat almost emotionless voice. He tore his eyes away from the eerie mansion and nodded toward Sephiroth, turning back toward the two cadets. Miles was standing with an air of purpose as he looked ahead at the road and while Cloud was attempting to assume the same air, Zack could feel the nerves radiating off the boy. He was tempted to walk over and squeeze the blond's arm to reassure him, but he was interrupted by the sound of a voice off to the side.

"I've been _telling_ you, dad, I can _do_ this. Master Zangan doesn't have a problem with it." The sound of the young woman's voice drifted over toward the group of men. Zack saw Cloud immediately react, his entire body seeming to curl in toward itself. He was making sure his hair was tucked into his helmet again, and Zack watched with curiosity as the girl attached to the annoyed voice came striding toward the group. Zack raised an eyebrow as she came into view stomping and huffing like a child. She had long dark hair with bangs that fell just slightly over her face on one side and her large brown eyes were full of passion and tremendous will. Her outfit was rather questionable and certainly not very suitable for a trek through the mountains. She stood, hands cocked at her hips, a grin placed firmly on her face. Her eyes caught Zack's and he could swear that the grin faltered a bit. The look she cast him . . . he wasn't certain exactly what it meant, but she seemed to be searching his eyes, wondering at something. It was gone in an instant when she focused back on the man walking up to her.

"And that's the problem, isn't it, Tifa? That man is putting ridiculous notions into your head. You're not a fighter, you're my _daughter_ and your place is—"

"You can't stop me. I _want_ to do this, and I _will_ do this," Tifa said with an air of finality. Her father sighed, exasperation and worry creasing his forehead as he turned and walked toward Sephiroth. The silver-haired man seemed puzzled by the openness of those pleading eyes.

"Listen to me, Sephiroth," the man was saying, his hands shaking. "In case something happens . . ."

He couldn't finish his sentence. A wave of guilt passed over Zack. He remembered how his mother had pleaded with him not to leave Gongaga, not to pursue his dream to fight in the war and become a hero.

_"If anything happened to you . . ."_

His mother hadn't been able to finish her sentence either.

" . . . Trust me," Sephiroth said after a few moments. Zack noticed how Sephiroth had to avert his gaze from the man's eyes. "My men and I will keep her safe."

"I'll be all right, dad! I have two men from SOLDIER with me." She tugged on her father's arm and patted his back reassuringly, but he didn't seem convinced. He gave Sephiroth a wary look and stepped aside in defeat though he didn't walk back toward the town.

"I'm Tifa," the girl smiled brightly as she walked toward Sephiroth. "Nice to meet you!" Sephiroth only nodded and looked toward the road. He was about to move out when another man came running up the path sputtering at the General for a picture—as a memento, he said. Zack immediately sprang toward the man to get in the picture as Tifa walked over. Sephiroth joined them last, his face expressionless as the man snapped the picture. Zack thought they must have looked comical, but the man looked so pleased. He held the camera as if it was gold and promised them all a copy as he ran off.

"Let's go," Sephiroth commanded, and Zack could see Tifa's father standing off to the side, the dejection in his shoulders visible to anyone who cared to look. Zack turned, unable to look at the man any longer, and watched as Tifa strode off ahead of Sephiroth, her feet sure in those polished cowboy boots, her steps springing. Even the way her hair swung was full of life and vivacity and Zack could tell from the way Cloud's jaw was set that he knew Tifa and that he had some history with her.

They had been walking in silence for a while when Tifa suddenly slowed her stride to match Zack's. Immediately he knew that the look she had given him earlier meant that she had something to ask him, but he wasn't sure what and he fought back the urge to turn back and look toward Cloud. Certainly the boy would be watching them with deep curiosity.

"Hey," Tifa began, her fingers trailing up toward her ear to slide a few dark strands behind it. Zack looked at her face and caught the gleam of her earring. It looked too bright in the gloom of the misty mountain range. So did her eyes. "Do you . . . know any blond guys in SOLDIER?" she asked. Zack resisted the urge to turn toward Cloud again. He would have to make the aforementioned blond spill his guts about this Tifa character later—what she had meant to him, why he wanted to hide from her. He shook his head after a few moments, his reverie probably looking as though he had been intently wracking his brain for the memory of a blond SOLDIER.

Even if he had known any blond SOLDIER operatives, none of them would have Cloud's hair; it was a pale yellow with bright highlights . . . like the sun, almost . . . or a delicate gold. It was a startling contrast to Sephiroth's silver hair, and their skin . . . they were both as pale as milk, almost. They were both Other to Zack: he was closer to Sephiroth than perhaps many other people. Perhaps he was one out of four, maybe five people in the whole of Midgar who could see him as a person and not an idol, and that was a strange and sobering thought. Cloud . . . Zack didn't know how to describe Cloud or any of the feelings he had for him. He wasn't sure what he saw in him. The same wall was there that he often saw in Sephiroth, but Cloud was emotional—perhaps he was ruled by those emotions, though he tried to shove them down. And Zack could see glimpses of something in him. Glimpses of greatness, but also of sadness. The same sadness he could sometimes see in Sephiroth. The thought of comparing the two was strange so he forced that out of his mind as well.

"Can't say that I do. Sorry." Lying didn't come naturally to Zack, but sometimes it was useful, even necessary. Besides, it was barely lying. Cloud wasn't in SOLDIER yet.

"Oh," Tifa returned, her shoulders slumping a little.

"Why?" Zack asked. "You know someone in SOLDIER?"

"It's nothing," Tifa shrugged. "It's just that . . . a friend . . . he made a promise to me almost two years ago. I've been wondering how he's doing. He left this town saying he would join SOLDIER . . . to be like Sephiroth. I wonder if he's reached his dream of being in SOLDIER."

"There are a lot of us," Zack answered. At least it wasn't a lie. And now he knew why Cloud was hiding; he hadn't made SOLDIER yet. It wasn't that Cloud wasn't good enough to make 3rd—he showed promise with Materia and he was a pretty good shot, but his hand-to-hand combat was atrocious and he had never really believed in himself.

_"Come on, I'll let you hold my Buster sword. Let you get a feel for a real weapon."_

_"Do you think I could actually wield something like this?" Cloud asked, his eyes huge as he stepped toward Zack. His hand slid over the broad face of the weapon and then his eyes moved up to settle on Zack's face. _

_"Yeah. Maybe. One day. You know, while you're a good shot with that rifle, it doesn't really suit you. You're like me, Cloud. The sword . . . it's like an extension of your body, of your honor, of your will. It's kinda romantic like that. Rifles, well . . . they just execute." Zack lifted the Buster sword and Cloud walked over, his hands closing around the hilt just shy of Zack's fingers. Zack slowly and carefully let most of the weight of the sword transfer to Cloud and watched as he gripped it, muscles tensing visibly. Finally he moved his hands away altogether and Cloud was holding the sword, but not for long. The boy's arms sagged and Zack quickly took the precious blade from the boy's fingers, touching it to his forehead briefly before strapping it to his back once again. _

_"You know, I think Buster likes you. He's kinda picky, so I'd consider it an honor!"_

Tifa had already gone ahead again, her steps sure, her back straight. But Zack couldn't help but read a certain kind of sadness in that stride. If only she knew Cloud was right there beside her.

xxx

_There's no escape now,_

_No mercy no more._

_No remorse cause I still remember_

_The smile when you tore me apart._

_You took my heart,_

_Deceived me right from the start._

_You showed me dreams,_

_I wished they'd turn into real._

_You broke a promise and made me realize._

_It was all just a lie._

xxx

Miles was whistling. Perhaps the silence of their group and the cold country air were affecting him. Zack could almost feel the boy's nerves washing over him.

"Keep quiet. You'll attract them," Sephiroth said. Miles nodded and did as he was told, hand twitching on his rifle. They had walked on without a single encounter from a mako-engorged beast and Zack could tell that everyone's shoulders were squared with wariness.

It was then that they heard the sound of a howl nearby. Immediately Zack saw Cloud throw himself in front of Tifa, hand held back to prevent her from moving. But her eyes were glittering with excitement, not fear. The sound of four weapons being drawn filled the quiet mountain air and a large wolf came sauntering through their path. Zack could see Sephiroth's eyes glint with fiery mako, his sword turning with a deft flick of his wrist. He was coiled like a cat, ready to strike on the beast.

It was a pitiful sight, the wolf. As menacing as it looked, tufts of its fur were missing, its skin scarred and bleeding. Its eyes were glowing with rage and sadness. Before it could raise its tail, the end glowing in a cloud of noxious mako and poised for attack, the blade of Sephiroth's Masamune had plunged effortlessly into its heart. It seemed as though Sephiroth had barely even moved. Both Miles and Cloud stared with gaping mouths as the blade twisted, causing the beast to let out its dying roar as it thrashed wildly. Sephiroth quickly withdrew the bloodied tip of his sword as the beast fell limp and sheathed it, waving everyone on as he moved forward. Miles walked over to the beast and stared at it as the mako glow left its eyes, his head moving up and looking in Zack's direction.

"Come on," Zack muttered, ushering the boy away.

Tifa ducked under Cloud's arm and gave him a smile as she ran to catch up with Sephiroth, her hair swinging in that carefree way again. She looked up at the silver-haired man and Zack could see a brief flash of something in her eyes even from where he stood. It must have been fear. Sephiroth had killed the wolf with no remorse. There had been no hesitation. The man was an extension of his blade. He was the true face of SOLDIER—a living weapon.

She took off again, feet moving quickly in the rubble of the mountain path. She stopped right before a bridge connecting the two paths.

"Mount Nibel—and the Mako Reactor—are up ahead," she said. The bridge looked old and rickety and as Tifa stepped onto it she grabbed both ropes that extended for stability and ran down toward the middle. Sephiroth held his hand out toward the bridge in front of Zack, meaning for him to cross first. It was a precaution, he knew. Zack kept his chin up and stared toward Tifa, not once looking down as he made his way slowly across the bridge. The wooden boards underneath his feet creaked and twisted from side to side as he took each step, and he nearly slipped when he misplaced his foot. There was a board missing and he had nearly gone crashing through the one he had his other foot on. His heart raced in his ears as he reached the guide, forcing his face into a calm mask. He looked back briefly and saw Sephiroth making his way coolly across the bridge, the two cadets arguing near the start of the bridge. Their voices were low, but he could make their conversation out. Miles was afraid of heights and was paralyzed with fear, but Cloud was trying to coax him onto the bridge.

"We'll go one after the other, and quick, like ripping off a band-aid," he heard the blond saying. Zack smiled and turned, impressed with Cloud.

"It gets harder from here! Follow me!" Tifa called across the way, mostly for the cadets' benefit, and turned to run across the rest of the way. Zack followed suit, his eyes trained on each wooden board, his vision tunneled so that he didn't quite see the steep and treacherous drop below him. As soon as he made his way onto steady ground he let out a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived.

"The bridge!" Tifa yelled. Zack turned to see Sephiroth come up onto the mountain path, but the two cadets were still on the bridge. Cloud was closest to their end of the bridge, his movements wild as he scrambled across the bridge even as it started to twist and snap. Miles let out a blood-curdling scream as he lost his balance and fell down toward the rocky earth below. Zack held his hand out and caught Cloud's arm just as the rest of the bridge fell away with Miles. Zack looked into Cloud's visor as he pulled him up onto his feet beside him, glad that he couldn't clearly make out the expression behind it. Cloud allowed himself to cling onto Zack for dear life, his whole body trembling. The older man was trembling too, and he looked down. The drop seemed endless, but his eyes—enhanced by mako—could make out the shape of a broken and bloodied form on the face of a rock. The bridge was caught just below him, swinging like a pendulum. Zack moved his head, focusing back on Cloud. He hadn't noticed, but the boy's fingers were gripping brutally at Zack's forearm, and his face had gone even paler with shock. He gently pried the boy's fingers from him, giving him an apologetic look. He could feel eyes boring into his back and he turned to look into them. They were Sephiroth's eyes. The man immediately averted his gaze, brushing off the leather of his coat as if nothing much had happened. He was calm, impassive. But that look. What was that look?

"Everyone seems to be all right," he said. He turned toward Tifa. She seemed unaffected, but Zack could see the question in her eyes. Cloud was trembling and Zack could see tears slowly slipping down his cheeks. The raven-haired man couldn't help but notice then how young Cloud seemed, how much he had yet to experience. Sephiroth tilted his head, watching as Cloud turned his head down toward the ground to hide his face. He sniffled and wiped his face with his sleeve.

"It may seem cold, but we have no time to search for him," Sephiroth said, his eyes on Cloud. The boy regained his compsure, shrugged his shoulders, and gripped his rifle as if nothing had happened. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, reached a hand out as if he wanted to offer consolation, but then he turned around toward the new path. "We can't go back now, so we must go on. Stay close." Zack stood for a moment, watching as the group moved onward. He jogged gently to catch up to Cloud, considering the hard line of his mouth.

"I knew . . . when I signed up . . . that I would see people die before my eyes. I . . . it's okay, Zack."

"It's not okay," Zack said softly. "It's never okay. I shouldn't . . . shouldn't have . . ."

"It's okay," Cloud said as he shook his head. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen. You taught me a valuable lesson, and I'll take it to heart."

"He didn't want to be in SOLDIER," Zack whispered, as if to himself. Cloud only squared his shoulders and strode onward, falling silent.

The group traveled in silence again. Every once in a while Zack could see Tifa turn her head to make sure everyone was still following, her eyes losing a bit of their former sparkle. They were traveling for another thirty minutes before a cave loomed ahead. Tifa waved her hand and ushered them inside. It was mostly dark inside with thin streams of dull light and inside the temperature seemed to drop, but the walls of the cave were high and they sparkled richly, dozens of colors reflecting off of beautiful crystallized rocks.

"What's this?" Zack asked, looking around him. He had never seen anything so beautiful, and the way the light from the crystals bounced off the group's skin entranced him.

"A mysteriously colored cave," Tifa said thoughtfully, looking around as if seeing the walls for the first time.

"It must be the mako energy," Sephiroth said, his gloved hand running over the wall gently, reverently. "This mountain is especially abundant in it. That's why the Mako Reactor was built here." Zack saw Cloud walk behind Sephiroth, touching the wall in the silver-haired man's wake.

They continued on, Sephiroth slaying more monsters. There seemed to be dozens of them, but Zack never had to unsheathe his Buster sword. A mutated bat had glanced off his shoulder guard, but he made quick work of killing it with his fists. Cloud had his rifle aimed toward the cave's ceiling, shooting a few more. Zack could see a small smile ghosting at Sephiroth's lips. The boy's aim must have impressed him; it was the same look he had seen on the General's face whenever he witnessed his simulated training with Angeal. Zack would never admit it, but Cloud's aim was at least ten times better than his own had been when he was a grunt. He had caught Angeal's attention because of his hand-to-hand combat, his zeal. Cloud's skill seemed to come naturally to him, though he was passionless with the rifle. It was only when Zack let Cloud handle a broadsword that the boy's eyes gleamed with obvious pleasure. Still, as a grunt, Cloud was discouraged from using any specific weapon. They had been trained to use their standard rifles mostly, and from time to time they were given different weapons as a formality so they might be familiar with at least a few of them. Rifles after all were just fancy clubs whenever depleted of ammo.

When they reached what appeared to be the heart of the cave a large shining fountain appeared before them. Its inner light was almost blinding to Zack's sensitive eyes, and it was more beautiful than words could describe. It throbbed with energy, the crystal walls surrounding it catching all the light and making the cave seem as if it were alive, pulsing with color. At the center it was a brilliant and rich green—the color of Sephiroth's eyes—but all around were other colors, more colors than Zack could name. It stung to look, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

" . . . And what's this?" he asked. He had never seen anything quite like it.

"A mako fountain. It's a miracle of nature." Sephiroth stared at it for a moment, but then he seemed ready to continue on. Tifa, however, was entranced. Cloud stepped forward a bit, his hand tightening on his rifle, but then he relaxed a bit.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered. "If the Mako Reactor continues to suck up the energy, this fountain will dry up too." Zack ran a hand through his hair, glancing between Sephiroth and their guide. The silver-haired General walked toward the fountain beside Tifa and for a brief moment Zack found it comical how he seemed to tower over her. Sephiroth was like a monolith, his hair a streaming fountain by its own rights. The way the Mako glowed off his skin was just as beautiful as the fountain itself. He looked like a statue bathed in light standing there.

"Materia," he said. Zack's brows furrowed as he stepped closer. "When you condense mako energy, Materia is produced. It's very rare to be able to see Materia in its natural state."

"Uh, by the way," Zack began, running his hand through his thick black hair, "Why is it that when you use Materia you can also use magic too?" Sephiroth shot Zack a look of distaste. Crippling distaste.

"Uh . . . hey, it's for . . . C—" He almost said Cloud's name, and he saw the boy whip his head toward Zack's. "It's for the cadet's benefit," Zack said quickly, pointing at Cloud.

"What did Angeal teach you?" Sephiroth said scathingly, but he answered the question anyway. "The knowledge and wisdom of the Ancients is held within the Materia." Zack immediately conjured the image of Aerith in his head. He could almost hear her soft laugh. He remembered how she had frowned and told him how her Materia was useless. She was unique, one of a kind. She could make things grow with her magic fingers, her sweet nature. The last Ancient. He felt something strange flutter through him at the thought of her. Guilt, maybe? He definitely missed her, definitely wondered how she was doing, if Tseng had been looking after her. "Anyone with this knowledge can freely use the powers of the Land and the Planet. That knowledge interacts between ourselves and the planet calling up magic . . . or so they say."

"Magic . . . a mysterious power," Zack said wonderingly, still thinking of Aerith. She had once told him that she could _hear_ things . . . the voices of the Planet. He hadn't understood it then and he still couldn't. His thoughts were interrupted by Sephiroth's laughter.

"Uh . . . did I . . . say somethin' funny?" Zack asked, brows furrowing more.

"A man once told me never to use an unscientific term such as 'mysterious power'," Sephiroth said, shaking his head. "It shouldn't even be called magic! I still remember how angry he was." This seemed to amuse Sephiroth, but Zack didn't get the joke.

"Who was it?" the younger 1st Class asked.

"Professor Hojo . . . of Shinra, Inc. An inexperienced man assigned to take over the work of a great scientist—a genius of a man. He was a walking mass of complexes. Everything he said . . . made me wonder for hours." Sephiroth seemed to recall the man fondly. His voice had gone from icy to . . . almost wistful. Almost.

"A mako fountain. So . . .this is where the knowledge of the Ancients is," Tifa said wonderingly. She looked up at where the fountain bloomed from the ceiling and stared.

Tifa tore her eyes away from the fountain when they all heard a rumble, a roar much louder and much more menacing than that of the wolf. Sephiroth was nowhere to be found, as if he just vanished, but up ahead they could see the bright blast of lightning. The large head of a serpent fell crashing to the ground as Sephiroth seemingly floated back down to his feet atop the dead beast's toppled brow, his hair falling around him, gracefully drifting back in place. Tifa gasped and Cloud made a noise of appreciation.

"What'd I tell you, kid?" Zack grinned. "Watching Sephiroth in action is pretty amazing, isn't it?" He slapped his hand onto Cloud's back and saw the boy nod slowly as he watched Sephiroth almost _materialize_ back before them, not a hair out of place.

"Let's move onward," he said. "The Reactor is close. I can smell it." He punctuated the statement by twitching his nose. The action might have even been considered _cute_ to Zack if he hadn't just slain a creature four times his size. That fact aside, the adjective seemed wrong on many other levels. Zack could smell the Reactor too; it was strong—there was no doubt about that. It felt almost like a slow burn inside his nostrils and he could feel his hair standing on end as if his whole body—his mako-infused body—was being pushed and pulled at the same time. It was a strange but not unfamiliar feeling.

Once they were out of the cave the rest of the trek was simple and it didn't take very much longer. The Reactor was before them, humming with an electrical power. Tifa turned toward the group. She looked restless and a little excited.

"We finally made it," she said. Sephiroth walked past her and started up the steps to the main entrance. "We sure took the long way though."

"Listen, Tifa," Zack started, knowing the woman was itching to come inside with them. "You wait here."

"But," Tifa protested, "I'm going inside too! I wanna see!" Zack was about to say something else when Sephiroth—halfway up the stairs—turned around.

"Only authorized Shinra personnel are allowed in. This place is full of Shinra's industrial secrets." His voice had an air of finality, but Tifa was young and didn't know to refuse Sephiroth was a little crazy.

"But—"

Her rebuttal died in her throat as Sephiroth turned toward Cloud.

"Take care of the lady," he ordered. Cloud moved toward Tifa and in front of the stairs. He shook his head at her, his hand stretched out to refuse her entrance. She stamped her foot in another childish display and huffed loudly, glowering hatefully up at Sephiroth. Zack patted the cadet on the back as he ascended the stairs after Sephiroth and as they disappeared behind a large metal door, Tifa turned her irritated expression toward Cloud.

"Better take real good care of me then!" She huffed once more.

Once inside the Reactor, Zack followed Sephiroth into the heart of it. The room at the center was bathed in a soft red light and there were rows and rows of metal pods. Zack walked ahead of Sephiroth, fascinated by what lay before them. When he came to the large door at the top of the stairs, he turned briefly to see Sephiroth still walking up the stairs and read the inscription above the door. The name "JENOVA" in large block letters was engraved in metal.

"JENOVA . . .interesting," he said quietly to himself. "The door is . . . sealed, of course." He banged on the metal surface uselessly for a moment, and then turned around, staring at the inscription for a few seconds longer until realization dawned on him. "JENOVA . . . ?" His eyes fixed on Sephiroth, watching the man making his way back toward the pod-like devices. He saw the silver-haired man stop in front of one in particular to scrutinize it. A soft hissing noise was coming from it.

"This is the cause of the malfunction," he said, his voice sounding carefully masked. "This section is broken." As Zack walked back toward the General, he felt those glowing eyes settle on his own. "Zack, go seal the valve." The raven-haired man looked curiously at his superior, the green from the pod's window casting shadows on his face and bathing him in its light.

"Why did it break?" Sephiroth seemed perplexed, strangely unnerved. Zack knelt and quickly sealed the valve, the uneasy feeling returning. He hurried back to the silver-haired man's side. He had moved to the pod on the other side of the stairs and once he felt Zack's presence behind him, he turned his head ever so slightly to look at Zack's face, an unreadable expression in his eyes. His mind was restless again, churning toward something, and as Sephiroth stepped back from the pod to stare down at the floor, Zack slowly took hold of the metal latch and stood on the tips of his feet to look inside the pod. What he saw inside made him draw back, a gasp escaping his constricting throat.

"What is that?' he sputtered, brows drawing together with a look of utter confusion. Whatever it was . . . it looked . . . half-human, half-beast. The word Sephiroth had used came reeling back into his mind.

_Abominations._

"You average SOLDIER members are mako-infused humans," Sephiroth explained. Zack stared back toward Sephiroth, his hands shaking slightly, deeply unnerved by the sight in the pod. "You're enhanced, but . . . you're still human." Sephiroth's eyes met Zack's for a brief moment, the mako there glowing with a strange light. "But then," he said after a few moments of staring into the pod, "what are those things? Their mako energy levels are _exponentially_ higher than yours."

Zack grabbed a hold on the latch once more, staring at the creature's features. It was relaxed in sleep, its skin almost translucent as it floated in mako.

"Are they . . . monsters?" Zack ventured, trying to understand. Zack saw Sephiroth's face twitch, his shoulders drawing back a bit, and his hands actually _shook_. He stepped away, his eyes staring hard at the ground as he walked toward the center of the room. He stopped in front of the room and Zack followed.

Monsters. He had said monsters. Sephiroth's face seemed to twitch with some sort of realization. Zack could only look on as Sephiroth regained himself. He was staring hard at the floor again as if it could offer him valuable knowledge . . . like he had stared at his hand last night.

"Yes. The Shinra scientist Hojo was the one who created them. Abominations spawned by mako energy . . . that's what monsters are."

That word again. _Abominations._ Zack raised his eyes slowly toward Sephiroth's, catching the strange flicker in the General's eyes.

"You said 'average' member," Zack said. "What about you?" He asked this uneasily, not sure how Sephiroth might react . . . but it was the obvious question. Sephiroth . . . he was bred to be the _perfect_ SOLDIER. He was Shinra's pride, Shinra's living weapon . . .

And as Zack saw the wall break apart in Sephiroth's eyes, he realized . . .

He was Shinra's perfect abomination, Shinra's perfect monster.

Sephiroth's face literally fell, his eyes welling with horror, his shoulders sagging, and his teeth and eyes clenched shut as something seemed to shatter at his very core. He grabbed at his own head, nearly falling to his knees but catching himself. He took a few steps, fingers shaking as they grabbed at his throbbing head.

"Hey, Sephiroth!" Zack ran forward, the shock of Sephiroth's reaction hitting him so hard that he put his hand on the man's back, attempting to soothe him, but Sephiroth recoiled from his touch as if it had burned him, his eyes pained as he shoved Zack away with a force that sent him reeling backwards. The younger man caught himself, spinning to maintain his balance. The look he had seen in Sephiroth's eyes . . . he had seen that very look in Angeal's eyes. It was a tortured look . . . a look Zack couldn't bear to see again.

"C-could it be," Sephiroth whispered harshly, his voice almost a pained hiss, " . . . that I . . ." He took his hands from his head, stared down at them as he slowly drew his trembling fingers open, "was created the same way?" Sephiroth's voice took on a hitch that made Zack shudder. "Am I the same as these monsters?" He looked up toward the ceiling, his eyes closing.

"I knew, ever since I was a child . . . I was not like the others . . .I knew mine was a special existence." Zack watched helplessly as the pod they had been looking into hissed open and the half-formed body of the . . . monster spilled out toward the ground. The liquid mako that had surrounded its body in the pod became a cloud of gas, its light surrounding the beast's half-conscious form.

"But this," Sephiroth was saying, his voice hitching more, "this . . . was not what I meant." Sephiroth raised his fingers before him, his eyes so focused that they seemed to stare through them. "Am I . . . am I a . . . human being?"

"No such luck," a smooth voice called from somewhere in the center of the Reactor. "You are a monster."

"G-genesis," Zack breathed, but before he could react fully, he felt himself being thrown back against the floor, the searing glow of magic making his arm feel as though it had been ripped from its socket. His eyes filled with tears as pain radiated all along his back and at the base of his skull, his whole body curling in on itself. He clutched at his arm, unable to move. Sephiroth quickly raised his arm and absorbed the energy of the blast directed at him, watching its embers die out in a cloud of arrayed colors as Genesis gently landed beside him on the stairs, black wing folding inward. He lowered his arm and took in a deep breath, his eyes narrowing and casting a scathing look at Zack who was huddled on the ground, whimpering like the puppy he was.

"Sephiroth," the cruelly cool voice sighed out like sinister silk. "You were the greatest monster created by the Jenova project." Zack struggled and tried to pull himself to his feet, gasping out. The pain was beginning to dull, but it was still intense.

"Genesis," Zack cried out. The cold force he had seen and felt in the Shinra mansion. It had to have been Genesis. "So you are alive!" The man's icy blue eyes—rimmed heavily at their edges with a shock of black—slowly, carelessly, focused on Zack's, a smile curving his lips upward. The smile fell in a moment, a pout replacing it as he turned toward the shuddering SOLDIER on the floor.

"I suppose I am," Genesis drew out the words with sharp venom, his pout only becoming more pronounced as he ran the red leather of his gloved fingers over his face, his lips, "if you can call this living." His eyes glowed with a hateful petulance, his fingers running further into his hair—it had started to drain of its auburn color into a slate gray. He stretched his neck slightly, the column of his throat laced with toughened cracks as if the man was turning into a living statue, the life draining from him slowly. Zack looked away, shaking his head.

"What is the Jenova project?" Sephiroth asked. Genesis smiled again with something that looked like spiteful glee. "The Jenova project," he breathed, "was the term used for all experiments . . ." and here his eyes smiled on Sephiroth with coldness, "relating to the use of Jenova's cells."

"My mother's . . . cells?" Sephiroth's brows furrowed and he turned from Genesis, averting his gaze and scanning the rows of pods.

"Poor little Sephiroth," Genesis said mockingly, his arms rising from his sides in a show of mirth, his lips quirking at one side. "You've never actually met your mother. You've only been told her name, no?" His eyes grew small with feigned pity as he lowered himself into a seated position on the stairs, his one black wing rustling at his side. He stared at the side of Sephiroth's face, watching as his lips began to twitch with barely concealed rage. "I don't know what images you've conjured in you head," he said, punctuating his words with a tap to his own temple, "but . . ."

"Genesis," Zack cried out, clawing at the floor as he tried to reach his hand out toward Sephiroth pitifully, as if to protect him from the venom of Genesis's snake-like words. "NO!" Genesis narrowed his eyes at Zack, reaching his hand down to grab the raven hair and yank at it cruelly.

"Jenova," he hissed louder, savagely jerking Zack's head around as the boy clutched at Genesis's wrists, "was excavated from a 2000-year-old rock layer." His next words dripped with a silky jabbing vengeance. "She's a _monster_." Sephiroth's eyes widened, his mouth falling open just slightly, the blue-green of his eyes glowing mostly acidy green as he stared at Genesis. A gasp left his lips and he looked off to the side, falling back a step in disbelief before his eyes hardened again and he turned a cold shoulder to Genesis, the hands at his sides curling tightly and the leather crackling.

"Sephiroth," Genesis nearly whined. "I need your help." He let go of Zack's hair and let the boy drop to the ground with a dull thud to nurse his aching scalp. He clutched at his own chest melodramatically. "My body is continuing to degrade." Sephiroth turned away more as Genesis rose up off his haunches, his body language imploring.

"SOLDIER 1st Class Sephiroth!" He cried out. Sephiroth's eyes had been cast downward, but at his rank a small noise left his throat and he glowered up at the ceiling. SOLDIER. Shinra. The stinging memory of Hojo's probing needles. "Jenova Project G gave birth to Angeal," Genesis was saying, but as Zack looked up at Sephiroth's face he could see that the General's mind was racing with a million thoughts and a burning hatred. "—and monsters like myself." The man's arms were rising at his sides once more. His head tilted back a bit, his eyes narrowing. Zack couldn't believe it—the way Genesis seemed to embrace what Sephiroth abhorred with a twisted and sinister logic. The man repulsed Zack, made his stomach turn, and he felt bile burning in his esophagus, threatening to empty onto the metal tiles below him. The mere idea of Genesis letting go of everything that attached him to humanity and cruelly hurting his _friends_ . . . it was enough to make Zack see red, but he was so angry that he couldn't even move.

"Jenova Project S—" Genesis pronounced with a sick pleasure.

"S?" Zack gritted out, feeling hopeless and useless as he stared between the two men. His eyes moved over onto the monster's form.

" –used the remains of countless failed experiments to create a perfect monster."

"What do you want of me?" Sephiroth asked as he shook his head. There was a sad expression in his eyes. One of the people he trusted, one of the _only_ people he _had ever_ trusted had gone completely and utterly mad. He had known it, experienced Angeal suffer because of it—and he had refused to believe Genesis was beyond hope, had stubbornly tried to help him back from the brink—but it was too late, and Angeal had sacrificed himself because of Genesis's venomous words, because of his betrayal, because of the death and disgrace that had befallen him. It was tragic. Painful.

"Your traits cannot be copied unto others'," Genesis said, cutting through both Zack and Sephiroth's thoughts. "Your genes can't be diffused. Therefore, your body can't degrade." He stared up at the ceiling, his lips snaking into a smile as if pleased with himself, almost like a small child holding a magnifying glass to an ant in the heat of the summer sun.

But Sephiroth was no ant, and with the memory of Angeal's pain, how he had come to Sephiroth to relay his wishes before he died, Sephiroth only continued to look away from Genesis. The slow-burning anger only grew more steadily inside of him.

"Share your cells with me," Genesis pleaded as he stepped toward Sephiroth, his face softening. He was like an insidious actor, and he had been good at tugging at Angeal's heroic and well-meaning heart, but Sephiroth would not yield. Genesis stared imploringly at Sephiroth for a few long moments, his face growing serious, full of concentration.

"_My friend, your desire_," he began, a dumbapple being drawn from the pocket of his long red leather coat—it too had hardened, turning from supple leather to stone just as the rest of him was slowly turning, and Zack saw that his heart, though probably still soft, had hardened and shriveled away into nothingness long ago—"_. . . is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess._" Zack's body quaked with rage at the words he quoted from _Loveless_, at the apple he recognized from Banora. The memory of Angeal hurt more acutely than it had ever had because it was focused intensely on his hatred of Genesis.

He saw the man extend the apple toward Sephiroth, saw Sephiroth's face turn slowly, and finally he turned his body toward the man with the black wing, his eyes lifting to stare into his—bright green meeting icy blue, and then the General looked up toward the inscription above the door. JENOVA. Zack could see the question in his eyes, the struggle to accept or refuse what might shatter his entire existence.

"Whether your words are lies created to deceive me . . . or the truth that I have sought all my life," Sephiroth said, his voice calm, cold once more and with obvious venom. "It makes no difference." He swatted the apple from Genesis's outstretched hand, his eyes hardening. "You will rot," he spoke these last words as though they were made of dry ice. He turned and walked away, giving Zack a quick glance. The raven-haired man struggled to rise onto his shaky feet and turned back toward Genesis, as if rooted to the spot by his fascination and hatred of the man. Even as he hated him for what he was doing, he felt a strange pity.

"I see," Genesis said, rubbing his hand as if Sephiroth had wounded him. "Perfect monster indeed." Zack ran out after Sephiroth, but he could still hear Genesis's voice floating behind him. He tried to shut it out of his head as he continued to run, but Sephiroth had disappeared into the mountains surrounding him, and Zack knew then that he wanted to be left alone. Tifa and Cloud walked with Zack back to the town and when they arrived Cloud had gone immediately to the hotel room. He said that he was feeling ill, and Zack understood. He hadn't even asked for an explanation pertaining to Sephiroth's cold shoulder. Tifa, however, had been entirely too vocal about it.

"Are SOLDIER guys always that rude?" She had said scathingly. Zack only looked at her, unable to say anything—he was apparently too shocked and still smarting from Genesis's reintroduction.

The last thing Zack had seen as he ran out of the room with Genesis had been the bruised dumbapple. He tried to will away the sharp pain in his chest, the wave of nausea and hurt that gripped him as though Angeal's death was happening again in front of his eyes. Worst of all, he had completely no idea what Sephiroth was going to do. He could only hope that the man would be rational, and as optimistic as Zack was, he just didn't know.

xxx

_In a shallow sleep I dreamt I was seeing you_

_Just how I remembered_

_Brimming with tenderness_

_And somewhere in the calm_

_A feeling that nothing had ever changed_

_Your presence close beside me till I wake_

xxx

A few more Shinra guardsmen had arrived. No doubt Sephiroth had called Shinra Headquarters and ordered them in before they had gone on their trek to the Mako Reactor. Zack let Cloud go up to the hotel room, but he himself went around asking about the General's whereabouts directly after his return. No one seemed to know where the man was. One of the people he asked—a burly man with salt-and-pepper hair, a full beard, and a ridiculous-looking cloak—had brushed off his question and started rambling about their tour guide, the girl named Tifa. He was apparently a Martial Arts teacher. Zack tried to be as polite as he could be, but the man simply wouldn't get the hint that he just did _not_ care, and after a few minutes, Zack had muttered something about needing to get upstairs and hurried off before the man even tried to protest. He was halfway up the stairs when one of the guards burst in through the front door.

"Sir, Sephiroth is in the Shinra mansion, sir," the guard said breathlessly. "He called me on my phone, told me to alert you and the cadet that he is not to be disturbed, sir."

"Not to be disturbed?" Zack blinked, rubbing at the back of his head where he was sure a bump was forming.

"I don't know, sir. He didn't inform me of much . . . he said there's a library in the basement . . . that that's where he is, but he seemed strange. I wouldn't –"

"Understood," Zack said. "Please go back to your station." Normally he would be cheery, assure the man that everything was okay, but he could feel a headache forming. He didn't have a good feeling about this—or anything lately, it seemed. All he wanted to do was go upstairs and see that Cloud was all right. He had been gone for about an hour, but he was tense when he entered the hotel room, wondering how he would find the boy.

Light was trickling in through the window, and while the day was brighter than it had been yesterday, the sky was still white, clouds mostly obscuring the sun. It wasn't as misty, but the town still chilled Zack a bit. It wasn't inviting. In fact, it was like a thorny forest excluding any outsiders from intruding.

Zack propped his Buster sword against the table across from the beds. His eyes swept the room, first looking toward Miles's bed. His rucksack was on the unmade sheets, causing him to frown a bit. He then looked toward Cloud's bed, seeing the boy lying on top of the covers. He hadn't bothered to remove anything but his helmet, boots, and rifle and Zack saw how exhausted he looked even in sleep. He walked as softly as he could toward his own bed and sat down on it, watching Cloud sleep for what seemed like forever. The soft glow of the bedside lamp entranced Zack and the boy looked younger and older at the same time to him, his golden brows knit together. His lips were moving slowly, and then he groaned out "T-Tifa", his voice full of concern.

_"You talk in your sleep."_ Aerith's face popped into his mind. She was smiling. Zack sighed, carefully moving forward on the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin resting in his gloved hands.

"Nnngh," Cloud groaned as he opened his eyes, turning his head and seeing Zack there. "Z-zack." The raven-haired man dropped his wrists and let his hands dangle off his knees as he looked at Cloud. He searched the cadet's eyes now that he could see them again.

"Tifa's safe. Don't worry." Cloud chewed on his bottom lip, knowing that he had probably said her name.

"It's not like that," Cloud whispered, and he sat up on the bed, moving toward the edge to tuck his head in toward his body. Zack forced a smile, waving his hand. "If only I were SOLDIER," Cloud frowned. Zack couldn't stop the noise from passing his lips—it was a fearful sound—something swelling in his chest that felt too painful. "Zack?" Cloud's voice was filled with concern. That sadness he had seen in Zack's eyes . . . it was there again.

"SOLDIER is like a den of monsters," Zack said softly, his eyes staring down at his hands. "Don't go inside." His head shook, his lips were pressed into a straight line. Cloud looked at him with confusion in his eyes, his head moving up from his shoulders. He tried to lock eyes with Zack, but his mentor was staring right through the floor.

"What happened?" Cloud asked. He knew something had happened in the Reactor—he wasn't a fool. Sephiroth had gone missing and Zack—though trying valiantly to keep calm—was distinctly troubled. Zack didn't answer for at least a minute, his eyes searching the floor as things played over in his mind.

"I don't know, man," he sighed. He shifted, looking off to the side toward his Buster sword before he looked up toward Cloud again. "I thought I knew, but . . ." His shoulders sagged and a hopeless feeling tugged at his heart as he fell back on the mattress, a long sigh escaping his lips. He didn't know what to say, what he _could_ say. He moved his arms back and propped his head up under his hands.

"By the way, do you _know_ Tifa?" Zack asked, his eyes never leaving the particular pattern in the wood above him. Cloud turned away defensively.

"Sort of . . ."

"Talked to her?" Zack asked. He knew what the answer would be. Cloud was still insisting on hiding.

"No," Cloud sighed, shaking his head. Zack propped himself up on an elbow, looking over at Cloud. The boy turned his face even more away.

"I'm sensing some issues here," he chided. "Shouldn't you do something?" Cloud turned his head back toward Zack, his eyes flashing with a bit of hurt, and he was about to say something when the SOLDIER sighed again. Cloud could hear him sitting back up.

"I'm one to talk," he muttered. Cloud lifted his head slowly and looked up as Zack walked across the bedroom restlessly. "I'm with SOLDIER, so . . . fighting's all I do." Cloud tilted his head, wondering at Zack's behavior. It wasn't like him to sound this way. "What's going on? Who's the enemy? It makes no difference to me!" Cloud's mouth fell open when he saw Zack pick up the Buster sword. He swung it over his head and held it over the table, his shoulders shaking. The boy could see Zack panting with restrained hurt and anger, tears threatening to slip down his cheeks. He brought the sword down slowly and held it in front of his face, gently bringing the broad side close to his forehead as if gathering strength from it. Cloud had seen his mentor perform the same action before when he had shown him the flowers in the Shinra building . . . the flowers he had planted there.

_"I want to show you something, Cloud. Midgar can get pretty gloomy, huh? Do you know that I've got a pretty good green thumb? Don't laugh—someone I knew taught me how to plant stuff. He was really good at it. This girl I know, well, she doesn't know I can plant flowers, but I can't do it like she can. She can make the most beautiful things grow. Orchids and rose bushes and . . . I dunno how she does it, man. I'll introduce you to her sometime. I think she'd like you. She'd probably squish you half to death. You kinda look like a chocobo."_

—

_Zack's back was shaking a little as he flung himself down onto the floor surrounding the flowers on the glass balcony, touching the Buster sword to his forehead. _

_"Huh?" Zack's back straightened and he wiped at his eyes. He looked up at the sky and smiled at the shaft of light that broke through the gray clouds._

_"Are you all right, sir?" Cloud asked softly. Zack looked over his shoulder and laughed easily, stretching out so that he could rock forward and propel himself onto his feet._

_"I'm all right, Cloud. These flowers, they just remind me of someone I knew once."_

_Cloud shook his head, looking back to Zack . . . and the sword. He could see the older man's shoulders heave as he let out a long sigh. _

_"Hey, Zack? You know, I've never seen you use that." Realization dawned on Cloud. The sword . . . it must have been Zack's mentor's. He was gentle with it, almost as gentle as he was with the flowers. _

_Zack's eyes widened and he slowly moved the sword away from his forehead. He stared down into it, seeing his own fractured reflection in it. Memories flooded into his mind._

Their mission in Wutai.

_"Use brings about wear, tear, and rust . . . And that's a _real_ waste."_

—

_"You're a little more important than my sword . . . but just a little._

His first time admitting his feelings for his mentor.

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing. Okay . . . maybe something. I don't want you to go."_

_"I'm going to see you tomorrow, Zack."_

_"I dunno if that's soon enough."_

_"Zack . . ."_

_"I'm miserable when our training sessions end. Come on, look at my face. Kinda feels like I'm drowning. Or something."_

_"You're full of surprises."_

_"That's all you're gonna say?"_

_"Maybe."_

_"You're horrible."_

_"Maybe I feel the same way."_

His speech to the new recruits.

_"Embrace your dreams. And, whatever happens, protect your SOLDIER honor._

"This," Zack said with pride, "this is a symbol of my dreams and honor." He held the sword out, regarding it as the precious thing it was. "No . . . it's more," he shook his head. Cloud didn't know if Zack was talking to him or to himself, but he felt himself smiling. "I had almost forgotten." He turned back toward Cloud, smiling again. The look Cloud saw in Zack's eyes, the dejection in his shoulders . . . it was all but a memory. "Thank you, Cloud."

"Huh?" Cloud tilted his head. He wasn't sure what he had done for Zack, but knowing that he had helped made him feel a little less useless. The burden of Tifa and Miles slipped from his shoulders as he watched Zack regain his certainty, his drive. The raven-haired man placed the Buster sword down beside the table again, his hand trailing on the hilt as he nodded.

"Right!" He said to it. Cloud blinked, confused as Zack walked toward the beds again, his arms windmilling in the air.

"You're strange," Cloud commented as his head bobbed up and down, following each of Zack's squat thrusts.

"You know you like me," Zack laughed.

". . . And you're full of surprises."

Zack smiled softly at Cloud and stretched. He sat on the bed and pulled off his boots, haphazardly kicking them to the side. He tugged off his shoulder guards, but that was all he took off. "I'm gonna crash. Night!"

"Wait," Cloud reached out his hand and Zack turned his head toward Cloud's, looking up into his eyes.

"I want you to know something . . . in case something happens . . . like with Miles."

"Hey," Zack turned toward Cloud on his side, his voice soft, reassuring. "Don't talk like that, okay?"

"Can I just tell you, then?"

"Shoot."

"Actually . . . I don't know if what I have to say can be said with words." Cloud scratched at his head, his hand running nervously though his hair.

"Then why don't you show me?" Zack smiled, picking off his gloves and flinging them at the nightstand. Cloud slid off his bed, walked over to Zack's bed, and straddled his mentor's . . . no, his lover's hips.

"I know I can never be like what Angeal was like for you," Cloud whispered even as he slunk his body down Zack's. He unzippered and lowered his pants and boxers, his breath hot against his thighs. "But . . . I just want you to know, that . . . well, that's okay."

Zack threw his head back and let out a shuddering sigh. The heat of Cloud's tongue made him see stars, and for once, he didn't yearn to be in Gongaga. He was right there. Cloud felt like home.

xxx


	9. Chapter 9

**Warnings:** I hope you don't want to strangle me for drawing this out so long. Oh, and Zack has a moment of heterosexuality here. You can ignore it, but I think he's the sort of gay man who occasionally appreciates a nice set of breasts. Sexuality is complex, okay?

**Author's note:** Okay, okay, so I said I wasn't going to post another part for two or three weeks and a few days later, what happens? I post another part. Yeah, you knew that was going to happen. But, see, the last few times I've been on the bus to get to school I've seen scenes from later parts of this story play in my head like little movies. I love when that happens, but then I feel obliged to write them all down before I forget them! I have many pages filled with notes now, and I'm excited to get to actually writing them all out in story format. Sometimes the creative process seems completely out of my hands. Heh.

As always, please review and tell me what you like or don't like!

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_Put your teeth in me_

_Carve your name in me_

_No, I don't care if there is something_

_That I'm too blind to see_

-x-x-x-

Part Nine

-x-x-x-

Zack could feel the sun shining in on him. He opened his eyes a crack and felt the light splash against his cheek. It felt cold—like Nibelheim; it was a clinical, almost hospital-like light and though it was dull, it made his eyes adjust painfully to slits. He moved a bit, but caught the blond head that was snugly placed on his chest. It moved just barely at the shift, a small noise coming from the lips pressed against his bare stomach. Zack lowered a hand to run his fingers through the thick golden hair idly.

"Cloud," he whispered, and he felt eyelashes fluttering against his bare skin. The boy resting on him slowly lifted his head, sleepy blue eyes opening slowly. He smiled down at him, watching those clear blue depths caught between the dreaming and waking worlds.

"Zack," Cloud breathed, eyelids half drooping over his eyes, blond lashes nearly glowing in the streaming light from the window. He nuzzled closer, resting his head against Zack's chest again. The steady beat of the heart within lulled him, made his eyes droop more.

"Don't go back to sleep," Zack said softly. Cloud moved his arms around his lover as if to anchor him to the bed, his legs moving to entwine with Zack's.

"I won't," Cloud said sleepily. Zack sighed, laughed a little, and gently pushed at the younger boy.

"I have to go see . . ." Zack's voice trailed off. He frowned slowly, the look of stinging realization and anguish that he had seen on Sephiroth's face coming back to him.

"Sephiroth," Cloud whispered as he moved away from Zack reluctantly, sitting up and staring out the window. "Where did he go?"

"The Shinra Mansion," Zack answered as he sat up after Cloud, draping himself on the blond's back, arms around his chest. He felt Cloud shiver at the mention and smiled. "Yeah, place looks all sorts of creepy. But I'm sure everything is fine. Sephiroth's just weird. Gets into all sorts of strange moods. Like you, heh." Cloud didn't need to know that the General had been acting strangely since even before they had left for Nibelheim; it was like those photographs from the briefing folder had haunted him. Zack wondered if Sephiroth had seen himself reflected back in the sadness of those creatures' eyes. He pressed his frowning lips to Cloud's shoulder and kissed the light sprinkling of pale freckles there.

"I'm coming with you," Cloud stated. Zack raised a black brow, honestly shocked.

"You're ordering me?"

"As a friend," Cloud said sheepishly.

"Ah," Zack laughed. "That's sneaky. You know I can't resist it when you put it like that."

"Yup."

The easy understanding and the strange duality of their friendship—relationship?—felt bittersweet to Zack. Bitter because sometimes he struggled to remember what Angeal's touch felt like now that it was replaced with Cloud's—sweet because it felt so natural, like he and Cloud fit together, as corny as that sounded. As much as he was stricken with his comparison of Sephiroth and Cloud, he had failed to notice the comparison between _himself_ and the younger man. They were like light and dark: Dark hair and light hair; tan skin and light skin; earth and air—the matching turmoil of their hearts in opposite streams. They were two sides of the same coin. Zack almost laughed, but he only made a soft sound; he didn't want to have to explain himself to Cloud. It was strange how he held back this side of him even though he knew Cloud was aware of it.

Zack could feel a distinct drowning sensation. So many things, so many secrets buried under smiles and flirtations and . . . it had all come so much easier to him once. He had been carefree once.

"Hey," Cloud whispered. "You should get dressed."

"Yeah." Zack squeezed Cloud's shoulders tightly and rose from the bed.

-x-x-x-

_Now I can't keep you mama_

_But I know you're always there_

_You listen, you teach me mama_

_And I know inside you care_

_So get down, down here beside me_

_Oh you ain't going nowhere_

_No I won't hurt you mama_

_But it's getting so hard – oh_

-x-x-x-

Zack made his way down the stairs with Cloud in tow now that they were finally ready to confront Sephiroth at the mansion.

"Heya, Tifa!" Zack called, waving as he saw the young woman standing at the front desk. She was apparently having a conversation with the strange man with the cloak. When he saw this, he immediately scanned Tifa for signs of discomfort, feeling protective and wary. It was in his nature to come to anyone's rescue, but especially pretty and scantily clad young women. Besides, Cloud seemed to be strongly protective of her. A look barely thrown over his shoulder told him that Cloud had his shoulders squared.

"Hi!" Tifa blushed a bit as her eyes met Zack's. It seemed to take her a long time to meet his gaze. "Zack, this is my instructor, Master Zangan. He teaches me Martial Arts." She smiled as she gestured toward the man and Zack nodded, smiling back at Tifa before he looked toward the man with the ridiculous cloak again, relieved.

"I believe we've met," Zack said, scratching at his hair.

"You must forgive me if I talked your ear off, young man. Tifa is one of my best students; mean uppercut she's got. She was your guide to the Mount Nibel Reactor, no?"

"Yup," Zack said, putting two and two together. He remembered Tifa's father telling her she wasn't a fighter. Well, it was a good thing to know that the man with the ridiculous cloak wasn't just cornering him randomly to babble about whatever the other day. He got the distinct feeling though that the old man wanted something from him. Maybe he had wanted him to recommend Tifa for the Turks—Zack could definitely see her as one: she was feisty, busty, and definitely the dangerously pretty type. Girl next door with an edge, maybe. She reminded him of Cissnei. He vaguely thought that covering that chest up with a suit would probably be a shame.

"Oh, uhm." Tifa was staring past Zack at Cloud now. "The guard. Is he okay?" She seemed to reconsider this. "Are you okay over there?" Zack could see the boy immediately drop his dead down against his chest.

"He's okay," Zack reassured her.

"Is he not supposed to talk or something?" Tifa's head tilted to the side at Zack before she prodded Cloud again. "Hey, what's your name?" The boy seemed to panic, and Zack watched him intently.

"M-miles," he lied. His voice cracked as he said it. Zack raised a brow though he wasn't entirely surprised.

"Well, sorry to cut this short," Zack announced, "but . . . Miles and I are on duty now."

"Oh," Tifa said. She looked thoughtful. "Did you hear? Sephiroth is in the mansion. One of the guards said—"

"Hey, Tifa. Don't go around talking to Shinra guards, okay?" Zack crossed his arms and Master Zangan gave him a strange look. Tifa's eyes glowed with defiance, but then they softened with some other emotion. To Zack it looked like she was remembering something.

"That mansion has been owned by Shinra for a long time," Tifa said. "Papa said that Shinra used to be all over here. It was kind of like a base. Lots of bad stuff happened." She looked at Zack with a conflicted emotion, as if she wanted to hate him but just couldn't.

"Let's go, then," Zack turned his head toward Cloud and waved at Tifa and Master Zangan one last time before he exited the inn, helmet-secured Cloud in tow. Just as they headed out into the town Zack's phone rang and he turned to give Cloud an apologetic look that said "Sorry, I'm gonna take this and it's so because I'm stalling". Cloud didn't seem to mind—he just wandered off, considerate of Zack's privacy.

Zack flipped the phone open and held it to his ear, his stomach fluttering. It could have been anyone, really. Maybe even Sephiroth himself.

"He-ello." Zack smiled, surprised and happy to hear that voice again.

"Aerith?"

"I finally got through!" she cried happily. Come to think of it, his phone _had_ been out of service for a while. Nibelheim really was a backwater town.

"Yeah . . ." He looked around for Cloud and spotted him standing against a signpost with one hand clutching at his rifle nervously. Zack was relieved to find that he wasn't looking in his direction—not because he was doing anything sneaky but because he still hadn't introduced him to the flower girl. Truth be told, he was a little jealous of the way Cloud seemed to be overprotective of Tifa and he wasn't entirely sure how Cloud would react to Aerith. It was pretty amusing, really.

"Uh, listen . . . now's not the best time," he said. He didn't mean to sound cold, but he didn't want to keep Cloud waiting for a long time. "I'll call you later."

"No, no," he heard Aerith say over the line. Her voice sounded subdued and he felt guilty for making her sound that way.

"Okay," he laughed. "I'll come visit." He would bring Cloud this time. No secrets.

"I'll be here," Aerith said. There was still a slight pout in her voice and in the back of his mind he wondered if he was leading her on. But then . . . there seemed to be a silent understanding between them. She knew about Angeal's death—he talked about him in his sleep the first time they met and he had been unconscious—and he could tell by the way she looked at him that she knew exactly what Angeal had meant to him. She was like that. Maybe it was because she was an Ancient—more attuned to things. Things Zack would never know.

"I'll see you, I promise," he said. He didn't make promises lightly, and he could tell by the pleased hum that Aerith produced into the phone that she was as satisfied as she could be with a promise.

Zack snapped his phone closed and stared at it for a moment before he walked back over to Cloud.

"Sorry about that," he said, but Cloud only shook his head and heaved off the signpost, walking ahead. Zack followed and when they reached the looming gate of the mansion a guard saluted him and opened it up. As it opened it creaked loudly and Zack closed his eyes for a brief moment and hoped for the best before he came to the large mansion's elaborate door. There was another guard standing in front and he too saluted Zack before he removed a key from a large key ring and opened the door into a vast anteroom. The only source of light in the great empty space came through its windows. They were huge and seemed to tower over the two young men.

"It's even worse inside and we're not even up those stairs," Cloud observed dully. Zack clapped a hand on Cloud's shoulder reassuringly, his brows lifting and his mouth twitching into a crooked smile. He saw a smile reflect back to him and he laughed; it echoed through the large space and Zack turned his attention to the anteroom again. His eyes swept the area but there didn't seem to be any stairs leading down; the only way seemed to be up the stairs. He could see Cloud out of his peripheral vision trying the doors that surrounded them, but by the looks of it, they all seemed to be locked, and peeping through the sizable keyholes produced nothing of interest.

"We should split up, look for him separately," Zack announced. Cloud nodded, all business. He almost expected to hear "yes, sir" come from those lips which were now pressed into a thin line. Cloud took one wing while Zack took another, and after a good fifteen minutes of looking through mostly locked rooms Zack's phone rang. He flipped it open.

"Don't think I'm crazy, but there's a strange noise coming from the fireplace in this room. It sounds like . . . laughing. Or crying." Cloud's voice sounded shaky. Zack felt his stomach drop and he suppressed a groan. He did not have a good feeling about this _at all_.

"Fireplace? Think it could be a trap door?" Zack asked.

"Could be. I'll wait for you here. I'm in the last room on this side; it's a bedroom." Zack snapped his phone shut and slid it into his pocket. He ran one hand through his hair nervously and placed the other on the hilt of the Buster sword, squeezing hard to reassure himself. He took in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and walked to the end of the hall on the other side of the mansion. When he came into the room he walked over to Cloud as calmly as he could and told him to stay there _no matter what_. He was not allowed to move under any circumstances . . . unless something went wrong—then he was to call for back up.

Zack explored the fireplace and found a lever hidden inside. Immediately after pulling it the fireplace heaved and turned around slowly to reveal a passageway and a long flight of stairs into seeming nothingness. It took a few moments for Zack's eyes to adjust, but then he could make out all the details awash in a light gray. He turned to Cloud and asked him to pull the lever once he disappeared down the stairs and he gave him a smile and a thumbs-up. Cloud only nodded gravely and told him to be careful.

"Of course," Zack said before he disappeared into the darkness. He felt Cloud's eyes stare after him until he was halfway down the long winding stairs. All natural light faded away once Cloud closed the secret door back up. The smell of rotting wood and years of stale air invaded his nostrils. It almost made him feel sick to breathe it in. The place surrounding him looked like a sepulcher, and upon closer inspection Zack found coffins littered around the central space. The ceiling of the cave was directly over his head and the walls seemed to close in on him. He was vaguely reminded of the dream he had before their mission to the Mako Reactor. The way the ebon wing had closed in on him had felt like this, and the thought did little to comfort him or ease his nerves. The claustrophobic feeling stiffened his limbs and quickened his pace as he explored the area and found a long hallway. A warm orange glow lay at the end and Zack could hear Sephiroth reading to himself. He paused in the hallway listening, well aware that the General had probably become alerted to his presence from the moment he stepped onto the spiral staircase that was made of ancient time-bitten wood. Even a mouse on those stairs would have alerted anybody with the way they groaned under his weight. But for some reason Sephiroth didn't seem to care—he continued to read aloud to himself in a frenzied, almost hysterical voice. It was still deep and low—loud, even—but it was strangely hitched, and there was a great sadness to it, a great tired weight pressing down on it.

Zack walked calmly into the room. It was lined entirely with bookshelves and in the center was a large mahogany desk. The source of light was a lamp on the desk glowing brightly. Its orange color seemed to cast everything in an aged light. Sephiroth was pacing back and forth in front of the desk, an open book in his hands. He seemed possessed by it, his eyes glowing with a cold fire. Zack was surprised to see bags under the man's eyes.

"An organism that was apparently dead was found in a 2000-year-old geological stratum," Sephiroth was saying. Now his voice was lower, almost shaky. "Professor Gast named that organism Jenova." Zack opened his mouth to say something, but something about the moment froze him, made him stare on.

"Hojo told me my mother's name is Jenova . . . so the Jenova project . . . can it really just be a coincidence? Is Genesis . . . right?" His shoulders sagged and he turned his back to Zack to place the book on the desk. "Professor Gast," Sephiroth whispered, "you were the only one who cared. You were the only compassionate one. Why didn't you tell me anything? Why did you have to die?" Zack swallowed hard, moving toward Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth," he said. It came out more fearful than concerned.

"Get out," Sephiroth hissed.

"Please . . ." He wasn't sure what he was pleading for. His heart felt heavy. He hated to see anyone he cared about in pain, and with Angeal's death and Genesis's betrayal, Zack became aware that he might have been Sephiroth's only friend. "I'm your friend. I'm concerned," he added.

"Get out before I am forced to remove you myself," Sephiroth said, his voice sounding strained. Zack could read the coiled power in his shoulders and sighed. To have that icy fire directed at him . . .

"All right," Zack sighed. "But please . . . it's not good to coop yourself up down here."

Zack left reluctantly, his legs carrying him while his mind tried to quiet itself. Cloud pulled the lever once Zack called for him behind the wall.

"So, was he down there?" Cloud asked.

"Yeah," Zack answered. His voice was stripped of emotion.

"What happened?"

"He wanted to be left alone."

"Zack," Cloud took off his helmet, shook his hair out, and stared up at the taller man.

"I don't know," Zack said. "I can't help him. He doesn't want my help."

"What's wrong with him?" Cloud asked, his voice soft, wondering.

"Shinra's secrets," Zack muttered. "He opened the door to his own."

"The General's . . . secrets?"

"The truth. It can burn worse than acid."

-x-x-x-

_Red Sun rising_

_Drown without inhaling_

_Within, the dark holds hard_

_Red Sun rising_

_Curtain falling_

_Higher than hope my cure lies_

-x-x-x-

Several days passed in uneasiness. Cloud asked questions and Zack was unwilling to tell him the truth only because he wasn't sure what the truth was. They couldn't return to Midgar until Sephiroth returned from the library and their presence was beginning to become unwelcome among the townspeople. Children stared with hateful eyes and mothers pointed, their mouths twisted with dissatisfaction. Zack couldn't blame them.

SOLDIER, protector of the people.

Shinra, interested in making people's lives better.

He could see in people's eyes that they thought it was all a fairy tale—a nice compact lie covering up a bitter truth.

Some of the people in the town liked him and talked to him, but others flinched away, unnerved by his unnatural eyes.

"_Eyes the color of the sky_," he remembered himself saying to Aerith. He remembered her fear of the sky.

Each day he returned to the library with Cloud to see Sephiroth, and each day the silver-haired man seemed a little more hysterical. It unnerved Zack so badly that he pleaded every day to him. He wasn't sure what he was pleading for—the old Sephiroth? The Sephiroth that wasn't possessed by this _thing_? But each day the General commanded Zack to leave. Each day his hair seemed to lose its shine more and it became wilder as though he were tearing it from his head. His lips, once so smooth and full, seemed to be pulled in a perpetual thin frown. His eyes were wild and rimmed with red. Zack wondered if he had slept since he'd trapped himself in the library, in the tomb of a basement, and with a heaviness in his heart he realized that the old Sephiroth had died here. He had buried himself in the large coffin of the library, and each day the stacks of books piled on and on like the bars of a cage closing Sephiroth off from the world without. Zack tried hard to bring him back to life, but whatever darkness that gripped the man's heart had a tight hold and it was already too late.

_"Depending on what happens, I may abandon Shinra."_

On the seventh day of Sephiroth's entombment Zack had dark circles under his eyes. He lay awake in bed as the pale sun slowly sank in the sky, Cloud's head curled tightly in the crook of his shoulder.

"It's time," he said finally. Cloud stirred from his shallow sleep and greeted Zack's eyes with a weariness of his own. The boy nodded and detached himself from the warm chest reluctantly.

It had been two days since he had last checked on Sephiroth and the feeling of not-knowing was gripping at his heart. He dressed quickly and stood waiting for Cloud in the hall. He stared out of the window there exactly as Sephiroth had done. The sky was a rich cerulean fading into a bright black starkness, the stars glittering like jewels. It was the first clear night since they had arrived in Nibelheim—all the other nights the stars had been shrouded by the heavy mist, but that all seemed like a memory now and Zack memorized the way Mount Nibel seemed to soften. He scanned the sky for the moon and found it peaking just over the spire of one of the mansion's towers. A pale shadow stared back at him surrounded by a slim brilliant light. The old moon in the new moon's arms. As beautiful as it was, Zack knew it was an ill omen, and when he heard Cloud's footsteps thunder behind him in the fog of his mind, he tore himself away from the window and prepared himself to visit Sephiroth's tomb once more.

-x-x-x-


	10. Chapter 10

**Warnings:** Lots and lots of gore, angst, and mommy issues. Oh, and emo "I can't save anyone!" Cloud.

**Author's note:** Okay, this is the last part for a while. I SWEAR. Uhm, I had way too much fun writing the Nibelheim fire scene. Waaaayyy too much fun. Also, I have no idea if I can actually pull off action scenes. I hope you are all pleased with how I did this chapter. Slightly longer than the last chapter (by a few pages).

I don't know why, but my Seph muse became a little possessed by Agent Smith and the six-fingered dude in _Princess Bride_ here. Hehe. Villainy makes me giggle with glee. Especially if it comes along with a totally manly Oedipal complex. Chortle. Yes. I chortled.

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_You took my heart,_

_Deceived me right from the start._

_You showed me dreams,_

_I wished they'd turn into real._

_You broke a promise and made me realize._

_It was all just a lie._

_Could have been forever._

_Now we have reached the end._

_This world may have failed you,_

_It doesn't give the reason why._

_You could have chosen a different path in life._

-x-x-x-

Part Ten

-x-x-x-

"Sephiroth seems different," a guard said. He must have recently been stationed there because no one had been standing outside the secret door when Zack had come.

"Different how?" Zack asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Sir, I went down to bring him something to eat . . . and . . ." the guard trailed off, unable to continue his sentence, but Zack pressed him.

"And what?"

"Books everywhere," the guard continued, his voice filled with tension. "His eyes . . . never seen such eyes. And he was . . . talking to someone. But there was no one there. He's the General—he commands SOLDIER and oversees various aspects of even the Shinra Guard, and I knew that such a man would be under a lot of stress, but I thought, sir, that if anybody could handle such responsibility, it would be Sephiroth. They call him 'The Great Sephiroth'. I never realized how young he was until just now. I guess he finally lost his mind."

Zack stared at the fireplace, his hand sliding up around the hilt of his Buster sword.

"You can't mean to go down there," the guard said, his voice wavering. "I don't like to admit this, but since it's Sephiroth . . . I dropped that tray and ran like a coward, sir."

"I'm going down. Cloud, I want you to go outside, call headquarters, and alert as many of the guards as possible to remain attentive. This situation is obviously out of our hands."

"But—"

"Go. Now."

Cloud stood there for a few more moments, and though Zack could not see his eyes through the helmet's visor, he knew that the boy was concerned for him. Finally he nodded his head and ran out of the room. Zack stared after him for a brief moment before he turned back to the guard and gave him the same instructions he had given Cloud each time they had come here. The guard seemed hesitant, but he stood at attention as he watched Zack pull the lever and descend down the stairs. Unlike Cloud, this guard immediately pulled the lever again and sealed Zack inside the cave without a moment's hesitation.

A crashing noise filled the dark space. It seemed to stir the air around him like an unwelcome disturbance to the dead silence that had presided in the cave for years.

_"You're SOLDIER now. You're going to have to do a lot better than that."_

The unbidden memory of Angeal's words gave Zack the boost of courage he needed and he walked down the hall toward the orange glow, watching as books were tossed everywhere.

"Mother," Sephiroth was saying, his voice eerily calm. "See what they write about you. See what their lies have done. They've imprisoned you with their lies, but I will free you, mother. I will give you sanctuary." Zack watched as Sephiroth dropped to one knee, hands raised toward the ceiling, a smile wider than he had ever seen from the man spread across his face; it was like a harlequin smile, sinister and macabre. "Mother, it all makes sense now . . . the years of pain, of feeling different. Everything," Sephiroth's eyes closed, his chest heaving with excitement. "Everything makes so much sense now. It all fits together so beautifully."

Zack took a step back as he saw Sephiroth open his eyes again, his head slowly lowering as he rose up off his knee to stare at him, smile dissipating into a little smirk. He laughed—a sickly, chokingly poisonous sound as he looked at the raven-haired man.

"Hmph, Traitor," Sephiroth spat with disgust.

"Traitor?" Zack backed up another step, but Sephiroth lunged for him. Before Zack even knew what was happening he felt himself hurled against one of the bookshelves, his feet dangling in the air as Sephiroth hauled him up off the ground by his neck.

"Ignorant traitor," Sephiroth seethed, his hateful eyes burning into Zack's. The raven-haired man kicked furiously, his fingers scrambling and pulling at Sephiroth's iron grip with futility.

"Look at you. The power of the planet runs through your veins—the power mother is rightfully entitled to—and you take it for granted. That sparkle in your eyes . . . has been raped from mother, raped from the land. Rapist. Traitor." Zack choked, his vision beginning to fade around the edges, but then Sephiroth loosened his grip, slammed his shoulders and pinned them there. Sephiroth's body was nearly flush with his own, but Zack didn't struggle; he gasped and choked, air crashing through his lungs once more.

"Tch," Sephiroth spat with distaste. "You call me your friend and yet you fear me. You're just like all the others." Sephiroth leaned his head close and took in a deep breath near Zack's sweating form, snarling with disgust. "You stink of it." Despite the pain straining at Zack's throat, he forced himself to speak.

"I don't fear you! You're my friend. I _care_ about you, Sephiroth. Whatever demons you're fighting, let's fight them together!"

"You disgust me," Sephiroth growled.

"Sephiroth!" Zack struggled to grind out. "What about your promise to Angeal?"

"Angeal was weak," Sephiroth growled as he closed his hand around Zack's throat once more. "That is why he died. Friends . . . I have never had friends."

Before Zack passed out he heard Sephiroth kick away several books and unsheathe his Masamune.

"Mother, I'm coming to see you now. Wait for me."

Zack didn't know how long he had been out, but as soon as his consciousness returned his body jerked into action. His scalp tingled at the base of his skull and his eyes felt bloodshot. At first he almost crashed back onto the floor, his brain and body a jumble of confusion from the force Sephiroth had applied to his windpipe, but he was SOLDIER, and he knew where the General was headed.

As he ran through the central space of the cave to get to the rickety stairs that led above he felt his chest tighten and his mind reel with the thought that Sephiroth might have locked him inside the cave. He almost forgot to breathe, but he couldn't have; every swallow of acrid death-stale air shot pain into his abused throat.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he was never gladder to see light pouring down on him. His legs carried him up the stairs one after the other in a blur of automatic action. Zack was like an automaton—doing, acting—no feeling, only numb horror suppressed under layers of hope hope hope.

When he reached the top of the stairs, the guard was dead. A long sickle-shaped slash ran from his throat to his gut. The man was nearly cleaved in two and there was so much blood, his intestines trailing out along the floor in a jumbled mass of slippery oozing. The stench of it was fresh in Zack's nostrils. He was used to the scent of blood, but the needless death made his brain go all the way numb. The tingling sensation spread to his arms as he ran down the stairs of the mansion and burst out of the front door.

What greeted him made him nearly stumble onto his knees. He was locked in place as he saw the entire town of Nibelheim caught up in flames. For a moment he was entranced by the way the oranges, reds, blues, and whites licked the clear night sky, but then he heard screams.

Women. Children. Fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, store owners. Nibelheim.

As Zack ran out past the gate he caught the sight of Sephiroth standing on the edge of the town just before the path to the Mako Reactor, his hair billowing in the intense power of the flames surrounding him. Zack watched with horror as a screaming man charged at Sephiroth; it was the scream of a man who had just lost everything and it bubbled up over the flame's roars with a haunting power. Zack saw Sephiroth's eyes narrow as he thrust his sword through the man's gut and twisted the blade, wrenching the man up off his feet onto it and hurling him into a lake of fire. His gloved fingers ran down the blade that glinted and reflected the fire in its face, blood dripping down into the flames below and bubbling and hissing where it landed. The silver-haired man simply rested the blade at his side as though it were an extra limb and for a brief moment he looked up from where the dead man lay and stared with deadened eyes at the destruction he had caused. Zack saw him disappear into the flames and the smoke surrounding them, and it was as though Sephiroth's departure had broken a spell over him. Suddenly Zack sprang into action, carving a path through the fire and shielding himself with his Buster sword.

"You!"

He heard the voice before he saw the man with the cloak. Master Zangan. "You're still sane, right? Come over here and help me, then!" He ran over to him and stared down at the guard at his feet being hauled up by the armpits. He was badly burned but his chest still heaved with life. Zack's hands shook as he pulled the helmet from the man's head, but it wasn't Cloud. He stared into the guard's face and watched as he took his last breath before his eyes went glassy and wide, reflecting the flames in their dead depths. Zack shook his head and Zangan laid the guard aside.

"I'll check this house," Zangan was saying as he pointed. "You check that one over there!" Zack nodded and climbed over debris and cut through flames. He saw a man curled by the entrance to the inn, his chest heaving rapidly. Zack strained toward the sign of life, kneeling at the man's side. It was the photographer from before. His exposed skin was covered with black soot and the fabric of his shirt was soaked with sweat and blood, and in parts it clung to his skin, suffused together with burns. Zack looked at him gravely and watched as his cracked lips split apart.

"Am I going to die?" The man's eyes, dark pools of fear, stared into Zack's. He looked away, licked dry lips, and felt his stomach tighten with knots of fury.

"Not if I can help it," Zack answered, his eyes meeting the photographer's. "Don't try to move—I need to look for more survivors." His lips twitched in what he hoped was a reassuring smile and he turned to move toward the next building. He spotted a guard by the side of it. He was shaking, gripping the earth beneath his fingers and gritting his teeth.

"Sephi . . .roth," he heard the guard hiss. The name was uttered with pain and fury, and Zack's heart almost stopped as he knelt before the shuddering form. He saw the coiled tension in the guard's limbs and felt the pain, horror, and fury radiating off him like the flames surrounding them.

"Cloud," Zack breathed. Relief flooded his limbs.

"I tried to save her," he heard Cloud choke out. Zack winced as realization dawned on him. Chickens ran around confused at their feet. Some of them lay dead or dying in the flames. "She was pinned under a beam. I . . . I couldn't move it. She told me to leave, but I held her hand and listened to her scream. I watched her die and I couldn't do anything to save her." Cloud's voice sounded small. Zack's heart broke to hear those words, to feel the pain in them. He pulled the helmet off the boy's head gently and stared into his eyes.

"Are you hurt?" he asked. He scanned Cloud—he was dirty with ash, but he didn't appear to be injured. The boy shook his head.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

"I need to look for more survivors," Zack said. "You should help Master Zangan if you can, and then I want you to leave with them." Cloud opened his mouth, his eyes coming to life with defiance, but Zack cut him off before he could even say anything. "Promise me."

"You're going after Sephiroth, aren't you?"

"Cloud, it's an order." Zack's eyes were hard, glowing with an intense turquoise fire. Cloud nodded and rose up onto his feet before he ran off in the direction of Master Zangan's voice calling for people to answer him if they were alive. Zack stood and looked through house after house, but there was no one else. Everyone but the few people who had been out on the streets was dead.

"Terrible," Zack said, shaking his head sadly at the ground. "Sephiroth, this is too terrible." He stared up into the mountains, squared his shoulders as he gripped his Buster sword like a shield, and ran past the flames of Nibelheim to confront Sephiroth at the reactor.

-x-x-x-

_Fallen angel, tell me why?_

_What is the reason, the thorn in your eye?_

_I see the angels,_

_I'll lead them to your door_

_There's no escape now_

_No mercy no more_

_No remorse cause I still remember_

_The smile when you tore me apart_

-x-x-x-

Zack felt the mako pulse and throb as he ran into the heart of the reactor, sweat stinging his eyes. Across the way he saw Tifa's crouching form. A man lay beneath her surrounded in a puddle of his own blood.

"Papa," she whispered down at the man, her fingers caressing his dead face. Suddenly Zack saw her head turn and fix on the sword by her father's broken and bloody form. She grabbed its hilt and dragged it into her lap, her head tilting up toward the high ceiling of the reactor. She remained silent for a few long moments. Her shoulders had been shaking with sadness and pain, but now they stilled and something seemed to sweep over her as she stared up.

"Sephiroth, huh?" Her voice was almost even, barely audible to Zack. "Sephiroth did this to you, didn't he?" It was so eerily calm. He watched, rooted to his spot, as Tifa staggered up onto her legs, the sword hissing along the metal tiles of the ground as she dragged it up with her.

"Sephiroth . . . SOLDIER . . . Mako Reactors . . . Shinra . . . Everything." Her voice was dull, deadened. And then he saw her slide the sword forward, heft it up in her arms, and swing it over her shoulder.

"I hate them all!" She cried out, screaming with the same determined fury that Zack had heard from the man who charged Sephiroth at the edge of the town. He ran after her, yelling her name, but the crashing tide of blood in her ears and her intense focus on her one target must have blocked Zack out of her environment, and when he ran after her he saw her charging into the pod room they had been in several days before.

As Zack stepped into the room, he saw Sephiroth, his back turned to Tifa and his head tilted up toward the etched name of JENOVA. Tifa let out a loud anguished screech as she ran up the stairs and as she was about to thrust the sword forward Sehiroth wrenched the blade from her hands and tossed her aside like a rag doll. Her body went crashing down the long flight of stairs and she lay crumpled at the bottom, groaning. Sephiroth turned back around, his blade returned to his side, and pressed his palms against the large metal door with relish.

"Mother, I'm here to see you. Please open this door." As the door hissed open Sephiroth expelled an excited breath and disappeared into the room beyond. Zack stared up as Sephiroth's long coat swished inside and then his eyes slowly went back to Tifa's form. He crouched by her, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and tried to peer into her face, but she curled in on herself, her head turning away from Zack's. He saw the flash of bitter hatred in her eyes.

"I hate you!" she hissed. "I hate all of you!" And as Zack stood again he sighed and withdrew his Buster sword.

"Papa," Tifa moaned pitifully as her body shook. Zack tore his eyes away, the fury that had been building in his heart reaching a crescendo. He stalked up the stairs after Sephiroth and entered the room labeled JENOVA, preparing himself to fight Sephiroth to the death.

The room was a mass of thick wires that joined in the middle and ran into a large glass tube surrounded by the mechanical form of a woman's prostrate torso held in the bondage of wire wings. From where Zack stood, the view of the suspended tube and the large red central wire made him shiver. The room itself seemed to him a womb, the wires like connecting tissue, almost alive. The face looking down at Sephiroth almost seemed to greet him, the wire wings looking strangely like they were an extension of Sephiroth's shoulders. A misshapen female form lay just beyond in the tube surrounded by mako and Zack couldn't shake the feeling that the mechanical contraption was a protection of sorts—like armor.

"Mother," Sephiroth breathed. There was a tremble of desire and desperation in his voice and Zack felt his stomach twist with disgust and hatred again. "Let's take back the planet together." Sephiroth's hand slid up to trace the metal lips, caress the face. "I . . . I had an epiphany. Let's go to the promised land . . . mother."

Zack's shoulders heaved, his hands tightening on his sword.

"Sephiroth!"

The silver-haired man's hand lowered gently by his side, but he didn't turn around.

"Why did you kill the townspeople? Why did you hurt Tifa?" His voice sounded disconnected from his body, too loud and almost tinny in the room encapsulated around them. The man before him remained still and Zack's mako eyes flashed with anger. "Answer me, Sephiroth!" His chest heaved and his fists curled, but Sephiroth only laughed.

"Mother," Sephiroth said, his hands stretching out to his sides and his face turning up like a cleaved dish searching for its other half. "They're here again." Zack watched in infuriated fascination as Sephiroth continued to ignore him.

"You should have ruled this planet. You were stronger, smarter. But," he turned his head over his shoulder toward Zack, his wild eyes flashing with an intense hatred of his own. " . . . But then _they_ came. Those inferior dullards. They came and took this planet away from you. But don't be sad, mother." The sound of crackling leather filled the room as Sephiroth's arms stretched up, fingers curved reverently toward the face of the mechanical woman. "I am with you now," he said, his voice like smooth butter, warm and comforting and with that same desperation always. He briefly touched the face all over and then grabbed at the wire wings, pulling the torso from the glass with relish to reveal the floating form of something not quite human.

"We meet at last, mother," Sephiroth said. His voice was almost giddy with anticipation. Zack could hear nor watch any longer and as he came up on Sephiroth, he moved the sharp end of the Buster sword directly over the silver-haired man's shoulder, aimed at his neck.

"Sephiroth! Have you completely lost your mind?" Electrical currents raced along the walls as Sephiroth seemed to turn in slow motion, his blade sparking against Zack's, his face emotionless and covered in the blood of Nibelheim's people. Zack stumbled back a bit on the thick cable, but held his balance. He looked up at the blank face and only grew more perplexed.

"Sephiroth, I trusted you!"

Sephiroth's face was draped in the same emotionless blanket as he brought his blade crashing back against Zack's. This time Zack stumbled back and fell over the side of the metal base in the middle of the area, allowing himself to continue down the reactor. Sephiroth jumped after him and seemed to drift down beside him, his silver hair—matted with blood and chunks of flesh—streaming around him. He looked like an angry blood-drenched god and as Zack continued to fall, Sephiroth's blade drew back and gleamed in the darkness as a bright wave of magic cascaded forward with the arc of his movement. Zack curled in on himself and defended against the attack with his sword's broad side, his limbs flailing out under him as he lost control of how he was falling. He landed hard onto a glass floor under him and gritted his teeth as he dragged himself to his feet. Sephiroth landed gracefully across from him, his eyes remaining dead. The way he stood and the seeming lack of sentience in his eyes reminded Zack of the training he used to do with Angeal in the VR program.

"No, you're not—you're not the Sephiroth I once knew! I understand that you have so much sadness, but—"

Sephiroth's eyes came alive and he looked up toward where the tube was.

"Sadness? What do I have to be sad about? I am the chosen one. I have been chosen to rule this planet." He looked back toward Zack as he raised his sword, pointing the tip accusingly at the raven-haired man. He shook his head, his own sword extending toward Sephiroth's. A part of him still wanted to try and pry the darkness that obscured the old Sephiroth away, but he couldn't take away the blame. Yes, the darkness had gripped him and stripped away his humanity so that all that remained was but a heartless monster in Sephiroth's likeness, but Sephiroth was still there and Zack could not put aside the blame. He had bigger problems than hesitating to use his sword, however, as Sephiroth slid Masamune vertically in front of him, his eyes trailing up its length before settling on Zack's again, an enormous concentration of energy starting to rattle at the ground they stood on as magic coalesced around the sword.

"Angeal," Sephiroth laughed, "let's see how your puppy plays." Zack's eyes widened as a green force surged forward. He tried to hold it back, but the glass below his feet shattered and sprinkled below like shimmering rain. As the blinding glow receded and the glass fell away, Zack was left on a narrow ledge and there was no Sephiroth in sight.

"Right here," Sephiroth chuckled as his blade flashed in front of Zack's eyes and slashed across his right cheek. Zack gritted his teeth and turned around, but he still couldn't see Sephiroth.

"And here." His left cheek. The scar opened up again and Zack staggered forward. He heaved the Buster sword and tried to listen for Sephiroth, but his heart was pounding furiously. Behind him, Sephiroth grabbed a fistful of Zack's hair and pushed him down onto his knees before dragging him across the long narrow path. The raven-haired man struggled to keep his grip on his sword and swung it up only to meet with Masamune's tip disarming him. Hair tore from his scalp painfully as he twisted and bucked wildly. Once he was free he charged at Sephiroth only to find that the man had disappeared at the last second and was now behind him. His sword clattered to the ground as Sephiroth grabbed for his neck again and lifted him off his feet. This time Sephiroth walked Zack over to the edge of the narrow path and dangled him over the vast drop below, his eyes shining with malice; but Zack's legs swung up and with a force that made Sephiroth stumble back and release him, he kicked both feet forward. Once he was free, he scrambled back onto the ledge and ran for his sword. As soon as he tightened his hand around the hilt he jumped up and flipped back onto the ledge above them where the tube that encased Jenova was. Sephiroth followed, his eyes narrowing with contempt. His blade plunged forward and Zack's Buster sword met with Masamune in a wild spark of metal, his teeth gritting as he tried to match Sephiroth's strength. The silver-haired man seemed to be expending almost nothing as he easily started to overpower Zack, and as his muscles started to burn and his strength dwindled, Sephiroth's eyes only hardened, his force increasing. Their eyes stared intensely—mako meeting mako—and Sephiroth, bored with Zack's attempt, flicked his sword and clashed it against Zack's with an enormously large amount of force in a surge of lazy power. Zack's Buster sword went flying through the air in slow circles and his body went back through the door and out into the pod room, each one of his muscles on fire as the air rushed over his sweaty skin. But he wasn't airborne for long—his body went crashing down, back first, into the stairs of the pod room and once he made contact it was hard enough to flip him onto his stomach. He limply slid down each step, his teeth biting down into his tongue at the first blow to his face. With each step, his body took another blow, dust rising off him as he finally settled somewhere in the middle, torn and mangled.

He didn't stop there. He looked up, bloody face raised toward the door he had just been flung out of, and attempted to pull himself up, but every muscle in his arm screamed and his eyes filled with tears as he was forced to remain immobile. He swallowed hard, tasting the coppery blood that was filling his mouth. His aching tongue ran over his teeth, surprised to find they were all still in place.

"As I expected," he heard Sephiroth say after him. "Not worth my time." The words made Zack's eyes sting with more tears.

_"You're not the only hero!"_ he remembered himself shouting at the virtual representation of Sephiroth. He didn't want to believe it, but maybe Lazard had been right. Maybe his dream was unattainable, and maybe his life would be cut short here. Tonight. But there was still some fight left in him—he was sure of it. But the more he struggled to get up, the more a drowsy feeling consumed him. And then he heard the sound of running feet behind him. They paused briefly and Zack could feel eyes on him, but he didn't have the strength to keep his own open anymore.

Cloud's eyes moved from Tifa's crumpled form to Zack's. His mind had shut off since his first decision to disobey Zack's orders, and so he saw them but didn't see them. His thoughts only swirled with fury as he walked up the stairs quietly, a single mindedness narrowing his field of vision. He found Sephiroth's back to him, and Zack's sword plunged into the ground before him. He moved his hands around the hilt and heaved it out of the ground, his fury carrying him forward in a rush as Sephiroth stood there, one gloved hand extending out to reach toward the form beneath the glass.

The sound of the cracking glass filled the room and Sephiroth gasped, his hand quivering and falling away. He looked over his shoulder and stared into Cloud's eyes as pain bloomed in his abdomen. The Buster sword pinned him to the tube, its width embedded in his torso. Cloud gritted his teeth when he saw those eyes and pushed the blade deeper before pulling it back out. He watched as Sephiroth slid down the glass trailing blood and ran out toward the pod room once again. First he checked Zack's pulse, his fingers lingering on the older boy's wrist, and then he clattered down beside Tifa on the ground at the foot of the stairs, the sound of his shin guards hitting the floor echoing through the reactor. He laid the Buster sword beside him to pull her head into his lap.

"Tifa," he muttered, wiping away the tears that still trailed down her cheeks.

"Cloud," she whispered, her eyes brightening a little, "I knew you would come. You kept . . . the promise." She passed out in his arms and he held her cheek for a brief moment. He stared down at her, his chest feeling tight.

"I couldn't save you then," he whispered to her relaxed face, "but I'll save you now."

Footsteps at the top of the stairs leading into Jenova's chamber made Cloud's eyes harden again, his head moving up to watch as Sephiroth stepped unevenly through the threshold with gasping breaths, one arm clutching Jenova's severed and bloody head and the other carrying his Masamune. When his eyes locked with Cloud's they focused and narrowed into hateful slivers and he straightened himself carefully, blood spraying through his armor. It was hard to tell what was Sephiroth's blood and what was Jenova's.

"How dare you," he growled out, unable to keep himself upright for long. His face twisted with pain and he gurgled on blood.

"Cloud," Zack groaned, his consciousness returning to him. "F-finish Sephiroth . . . off." Cloud gasped and looked up at Zack, his heart flooding with relief to hear that voice, his eyes temporarily softening. He nodded, the hardness quickly returning to his eyes once more as he laid Tifa's head down gently and picked up the Buster sword. He gripped the hilt and looked up at the silver-haired General from the bottom of the stairs, eyes burning with an all-consuming fire.

"SEPHIROTH!"

Cloud charged and heaved the Buster sword over his head before crashing it down on Sephiroth's extended Masamune. The blades shook as Cloud used all of his force to press against Sephiroth's blade, but even drained of so much blood Sephiroth was much stronger. His eyes flashed acid green as his blade arced in a circle, tossing Cloud into Jenova's chamber.

Sephiroth took labored steps and walked back into the room after Cloud as he tumbled in a heap onto the floor, his throat making constricting noises as his fingers twitched. He was in too much pain to get off the ground but he could hear Sephiroth directly above him.

The Masamune plunged forward just shy of Cloud's heart and continued out of his body. He writhed and clutched at the blade, groans and grunts falling from his lips as they spewed blood. Sephiroth looked down upon him as though he were an annoying mosquito and heaved Cloud up off the ground, still impaled by his sword.

"Don't test me!" Sephiroth hissed out, watching as the head of blond hair slowly lifted up to reveal two determined blue eyes. Cloud's fingers twitched as his arms slowly rose to clutch at Sephiroth's blade, and with gasping cries, he pushed the blade down and maneuvered himself back down onto his feet and lifted Sephiroth up off the ground, hate glowing in his eyes.

"No," Sephiroth clamped his fingers around the hilt of his sword as he shuddered in the air, his blood dripping down onto Cloud's face. "Impossible!"

"For destroying my hometown," Cloud choked out, "For killing my mother . . . I will . . ." he wrenched the blade to the side with Sephiroth still hanging off it. "I will _never_ forgive you!" A strangled growl tore from Cloud's lips as he hurled Sephiroth across the chamber and against the wall. The electrical current ran across and fire exploded and encapsulated Sephiroth's form—still clutching his sword and the head of Jenova—before he slowly dropped off the wall and fell down into the depths of the reactor.

Zack finally lifted his head back up off the steps and lifted his torso up onto his shaking arms. He watched as Cloud came staggering through the threshold of the door once more, this time clutching at his chest, a copious amount of blood spilling through his fingers. He tried to make his way down the stairs, but the inhuman strength that his rage had let him borrow ran out and he passed out right before he went tumbling down the stairs limply, only stopping right before Zack's body.

"Cloud," Zack gasped out. His fingers struggled to reach out and run through the boy's hair, but his body protested and he rested his arm where it was, stretched out toward the boy's pale gold head. "You did it." Cloud's eyes opened a crack at Zack's voice.

"Zack," Cloud gasped, blood drying at the corners of his lips. "The flower you gave me . . . before we left . . . started to . . . bloom." A small smile spread over his lips, his eyes dark and his breaths falling into evenness as he fell into delirious dreams.

Zack's body finally gave out on him completely, and a blackness pulled him deep below into a heavy unconscious world where everything seemed to be slipping from him.

"_Za-ack,_" a voice called out in his ear. _"Zack. You need to get up. You need to fight. This doesn't end here._"

He struggled to bring himself out of the darkness, but it held on too hard, and though he struggled as if trying to move mountains, his eyelids remained glued shut.

When he gave up, there was nothingness. No dreams of angel wings, none of Angeal's disembodied words . . . only nothingness.

-x-x-x-


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings:** Hojo. That's all I need to say, I think. I'm kind of nervous posting this. BRING ON THE FLAMES.

**Author's note:** I wasn't going to split the Shinra Mansion basement stuff into two parts, but it just seemed appropriate; it was getting pretty long . . . so, earlier update. It's been awhile, huh? I would say "I hope you like it", but I know you'll hate it, and hate me.

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_You're surrounded by deceit_

_It has so many sides_

_Yet you turn your back on that fact_

_Rooted deep in history_

_A clever web of lies_

_No one gets away - no one tries_

-x-x-x-

Part Eleven

-x-x-x-

"Him? This _boy_?"

Wheeze.

"So _he_ killed Sephiroth?"

Vision blurred, voices far off. Wheeze.

A pause. Wheeze.

"Intriguing. Most intriguing."

Darkness. Heat. Pain.

Pain pulling him into a tunnel of nothingness.

The tunnel went on forever, but eventually there were voices again.

"Sir! The dosage is too high! You'll kill him!"

"Are you questioning my methods? The boy will die if we don't."

A loud, horrible scream. It seemed almost inhuman.

"You might have anesthetized him, sir."

"It's better this way."

The screaming went on forever.

"Doctor . . ."

"Put him in."

Darkness. Silence. Then light. Pale, sickly, yellow-green light.

"Cloud?" His voice sounded weak and pitiful inside his own head.

His eyes felt heavy, but when he focused he could see a body in front of him floating in a glass tube. His eyes fixed on the face with mute horror. There was so much pain etched into his features, and though his eyes were closed, his whole body seemed gnarled. His fingers twitched, his toes curled, but his hair drifted softly around his head, touching his cherubic cheeks like kisses. Zack was transfixed by the scar marring the glowing chest. Even cast in the light of mako, it seemed an angry mottled pink star, twisting out in all directions, right beside his heart.

"Cloud!" His own heart wrenched to see Cloud like that—naked, vulnerable, and in pain.

"He can't hear you," a voice drawled, dripping with contempt. Zack could hear the sound of a pen scratching on paper and then nothing. A face appeared above his own and two pale brown eyes behind glinting wire frames peered down into him, through him. He knew that face, knew it by the cold and clinical malice etched in the lines there. Cold fear flooded his veins and though he struggled to get up, thick restraints held him firmly in place. The pain crippled him and his arms barely moved against the thick cuffs holding him down.

Glasses flashed in the low light as Professor Hojo pushed them back up the flat slope of the bridge of his aquiline nose, his eyes narrowing and his upper lip raising in a sneer of disgust at Zack's pitiful form.

"Write this down." He only paused for a few brief moments, his head moving back over his shoulder, presumably to regard an assistant. Zack's eyes narrowed as the sallow scientist's throat was bared to him. His fingers twitched, itching to close around that thin neck and snap it like a twig.

"Subject A presented with several arm muscles torn," Hojo said, returning his dead eyes to Zack; it was the same deadness he had seen in Sephiroth's eyes, with the same ill regard for human life. "The deltoid, triceps brachii, brachialis, and biceps brachii in both arms. The entire right wrist was shattered. The humerus of the right arm splintered in several spots indicated on the chart. On the face, mandible splintered down the middle. Nose broken. In the legs, both kneecaps shattered. Several ribs cracked. Subject being tested for mako healing before administering S cells."

Zack's eyes widened. Genesis had mentioned S cells within the heart of the Nibelheim reactor. Something about Jenova. Was Hojo going to . . .

Hojo's eyes swept over Zack with distaste as he examined him, rattling off his itinerary of injuries as if they amounted to a grocery list.

The sound of a pen scratching furiously sounded cacophonous in Zack's ears.

A machine beeped somewhere to the left, slicing through him.

And then he heard the ruffle of Hojo's starched lab coat sleeves and saw long knobby fingers descend swiftly to prod at the points he'd just rattled off. Excruciating pain tore through him, a broken cry tearing itself from his lips.

"BP is dropping, sir."

"Interesting." Hojo withdrew his fingers, tilting his head as if studying a wounded bird. "The mako should have taken care of most of his injuries by now. We'll have to do studies on him to see what it is that's hindering the process." The fingers returned to press against the side of Zack's neck. Pity never once entered his eyes as he felt the dull throb of life there. "Beaten within an inch of his life, this one. Sephiroth really was my life's greatest work. So many failures before him. Too bad about Gast, really. He didn't see it my way." Zack fought through the pain and the fear, anger making his blood start to boil. "Oh?" Hojo felt the pulse beneath the soft pads of his fingers grow quicker, angrier. "I suppose this is what SOLDIER is," he said, his voice softening. "Brute beasts with no thoughts—only the instinct to fight. Even now you want to fight, when it would kill you." The fingers withdrew once more, burying gently in the hair matted with sweat at Zack's temple, stroking away the stray hairs covering his face. "Let this be a lesson to you," Hojo said, his eyes sliding off to the side, where the assistant came to stand. He withdrew his fingers entirely and wiped them on the breast of his clean white lab coat, smearing it with Zack's sweat. "There will be many failures in your career, but they will teach you to take chances. Chances like those we will be taking with these two here."

The assistant looked down at Zack, his eyes flashing with something. Zack couldn't tell if it was pity or something else, but clearly the doctor hadn't crushed the man's humanity under the weight of their research data yet.

"Yes, Doctor. You are kind—very kind indeed—to let me aid in your research."

"Kind?" Hojo intoned, his voice lilting. With a gentle swish of his lab coat, hands clasped behind his back, he walked toward Cloud and leaned forward, one hand sliding forth to trace over where the mottled scar lay beneath the glass tube. "I suppose I am kind, hm? This one here would have surely died without our little intervention."

"Get away from him." Zack meant for his voice to sound menacing, but it came out as a hoarse, desperate-sounding wheeze. And it was getting harder to focus, to keep his eyes open, to push past the pain. Hojo turned around so fast that his dark ponytail whipped around his head. He strode toward Zack and looked down at him.

"You are in no position to make demands, little one. Just as sure as mako flows through your veins, it is sure that you belong to me and owe me your life. You have no choice but to lay there like a good little boy and wait for your creator to breathe life into you." Hojo's long thin eyes glared with surprising fury. "I'll put you under myself." And he turned toward the assistant, holding out a hand. "Give me the mask."

The hiss of gas was unmistakable, and Zack quivered with anger to know he couldn't do anything about it, about their situation.

"Let go of Cloud. You don't need him. He's just an infantryman. I'm a 1st Class SOLDIER." It just tumbled out of his mouth—a direct line from his brain. Hojo stood poised above him, gas mask in hand. Cold white tendrils ghosted over his wrist, promising deep sleep. Hojo's eyes lit up, a sinister smile stretching his thick lips.

"Silly boy—deigning to think he understands." He tilted his head, his eyes growing even smaller, like halfmoons of mirth. "Go to sleep," he hissed, and seconds later it blended with the hiss of the mask as it descended over his nose and mouth, his pupils shrinking and his eyes wide at first before his eyelids slowly, slowly drifted closed.

-x-x-x-

_New days dawn - let's start the game_

_Worship the winner_

_So come on - let's start the game_

_Your turn awaits you_

-x-x-x-

Zack didn't know how much time had passed, but when his eyelids finally opened and stayed like that, he felt as though he had been asleep forever; but there was no indication of that from his surroundings. There were no windows, no clocks, only the incessant beeping and the yellow-green lights. And luckily, no Hojo or any of his assistants at the moment.

The pain was gone; it was an observation that came to him as a shock. He struggled against his bonds with renewed vigor, only getting so far as to lift his shoulders off the cold metal slab he was restrained against. One look at the wrist cuffs told him there was no way he was strong-arming his way out of them. Pure adamantium. But he tried anyway, and soon grew exhausted, falling back on the slab with a disheartened sigh.

"Damn it," he breathed.

Coldness seeped into his limbs and it was then that restlessness settled thick and powerful over him.

His eyes slowly started to sweep over his surroundings. What he noticed at first was that there was a drained tube right alongside Cloud's. No doubt they were planning to put him there. The place seemed a jumble of wires, tubes, green and black and metal and stone. There were strange things everywhere, brains and fetuses—a chocobo fetus next to a chicken fetus, a monkey brain next to a human brain. Everything made Zack shudder, Hojo's fury and madness striking into his heart.

"Cloud!" His voice wavered, sounding small and afraid. Across from him Cloud floated in the mako tube. The hum of power trailed from the massive wire extending from the top, mako swirling in slow circles. "Please, Cloud . . . if you can hear me."

Two bright eyes snapped open, the body encased jerking forward. Blond hair swirled and obscured his face, but Zack could see fingers scrambling at the tube, the boy's chest tightening. Awake, Cloud didn't know that he could breathe the mako in, and as hair swirled aside, Zack could see the boy's eyes impossibly widened. He banged on the glass, panicked and imploring Zack. He simply looked away, the sight unsettling him badly. He knew eventually his lungs would expand with mako and that he would begin to breathe again, but it was still hard to watch.

Finally the banging stopped and Zack slowly turned his eyes back to Cloud's. The boy had the look of someone who had expected death, but who was instead given life once more. His chest was heaving, his eyes fixed on his trembling fingers.

"Cloud . . . can you hear me?"

There was a slow nod.

"Good. Listen, Cloud, we're gonna get out of here, okay? The both of us." Zack wasn't so sure, but he had to believe. More importantly, he had to make Cloud believe.

-x-x-x-

_Say, what's your choice_

_The die is cast_

_No going back now_

_What's your choice_

_The die is cast_

_Fake a "God bless you"_

-x-x-x-

"The cells are rapidly degrading, sir."

"I think we're close. Just last week we saw a spike in their production—they were being made on their own."

Zack stared across at Cloud, the scientists' voices fading away. They were so close together that they might have been able to touch if it weren't for the restraints.

It was the first time he looked at the new glow in Cloud's eyes outside of the mako tube. For some strange reason he couldn't pinpoint, it made his heart ache to see that glow there. There was a part of him that never wanted to see it—to protect Cloud from it, to keep him out of the den of lies, monsters, and pain. But who was he to think he could save anyone?

Cloud was shivering; the metal slab was cold and his skin and hair were wet. He looked miserable, his eyes trained on Zack's, his lips white and red, chapped and bleeding. There was fear and pain in those eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to take it all away.

"I'll give him another injection."

Cloud's eyes flew wide, his arms tearing at his shackles and his back arching.

"Zack," he whimpered, trying to move his fingers out toward the raven-haired man's.

Zack could no longer count how many times his heart had broken to watch helplessly as Cloud suffered.

Zack had seen what those injections did to Cloud. At first he was very still, his eyes wide and flooded with green. And then his body started to convulse. It started with a few small jerks of his head, arms, legs, toes and fingers, but then he seized up, his fingers locked painfully and his whole body started to seize. He'd bitten almost clear through his tongue once, so slipping a mouth guard into the boy's mouth preceded every succeeding injection.

Sometimes Cloud would foam at the mouth. He had deep gashes in his arms from thrashing against the restraints, even after the seizures were over. Zack couldn't bear to watch it happen again—he hated that Cloud suffered and they kept him in a semi-drugged state most of the day. He was barely awake, and when he was, he was useless to Cloud. He could only watch as they jabbed needles into his arms, broke bones over and over to test his healing times, and crammed tubes down his throat before they dumped him back into the mako tube where he beat against the glass until red mixed with green and he passed out from the exhaustion.

Zack's stomach twisted whenever he heard the screams. They followed him into the darkness. He tried to think of Angeal, but images of Cloud's mangled body being carved open by scalpels invaded his brain.

He was barely awake to see this injection, but he could hear the animal-like grunts and growls and howls of pain. He could hear the rage and the sadness. And when he could open his eyes again, he saw Hojo petting Cloud's hair and cooing at him.

"It will all be over soon, pet."

Cloud was gasping around the mouth guard, his body struggling to lunge forward, his teeth gnashing the soft material caught between them. When Hojo went to remove the guard, Cloud's teeth clamped around his fingers, tearing savagely. It was a small triumph, but Zack let out a weak cheer over the shriek Hojo emitted.

"You'll pay for that! Don't you know, little one, that one never bites the hand that feeds?" The menace in Hojo's voice only made Zack laugh.

"You call that gruel food?" It was the first time he laughed in what seemed like forever. All he got for it was a slap across the face with bloody fingers.

"It's time we inject this one too," Hojo growled, his teeth grating as he scrubbed his hands and wrapped a bandage around his fingers. He flung open a medical closet and pulled something out, returning with his shoulders squared. Zack fought with him when the man tried to slip the mouth guard on, his head shaking from side to side on the metal slab.

"Resist and lose your tongue. It's up to you, ultimately. We all make choices; I'd hate for you to make ill-advised ones." Zack's eyes burned with fury, but he allowed the mouth guard to settle between his teeth, his jaw squaring at the way Hojo cupped his cheek.

"This will hurt a bit," Hojo sneered, a seemingly huge needle being transferred into his hand. He grabbed at his forearm, jabbing the thick metal into the vein he found there.

He barely reacted to whatever they pumped into him.

"He's SOLDIER. How much did you administer?"

"200 CCs, Doctor."

"Triple it." Pale brown eyes stared down into Zack's, promising pain, and it was delivered.

It felt every bit as excruciating as it looked, even pumped full of what had to be strong drugs to keep _him_—a SOLDIER operative—drowsy.

When he was stripped of his clothes and tossed into the mako tube, Cloud was already floating by his side, the angry gashes around his wrists and ankles illuminated by the pale fluid.

Zack gasped, coldness enveloping his form as mako rose above his shoulders, and eventually submerged him totally.

The mako lulled him, made him believe that everything was a terrible nightmare.

_"Wake up, Zack. You can't sleep in my bed all day."_

_Two sleepy turquoise eyes opened slowly and fixed on the darker blue-gray eyes of his mentor's. _

_"If I told you I had a bad dream, would you stop looking at me disapprovingly and come back to bed?"_

_"I indulge you too much as it is," Angeal sighed, but he sat back onto the bed and trailed a hand down the younger man's chest until he pushed aside the dark blue sheets to reveal Zack to him. _

_"Do you know what makes me feel safest after a bad dream?" Zack asked, his arms moving up to clasp around Angeal's neck._

_"No," Angeal admitted, a tiny smirk appearing on his face. "What is it?"_

_"This," Zack breathed as he tugged Angeal down so that he could brush his lips against the older man's. "Mmmm, coffee breath. Do you know how fuckin' sexy coffee breath is?" Angeal laughed and slid down into the bed, his lips opening Zack's up as he moved his body against his student's. _

_"Training in three hours," Angeal whispered huskily as their lips finally parted. "Don't forget."_

_"Like I'd ever pass up the opportunity to get all hot and sweaty with you," Zack grinned, giving Angeal's lips another soft kiss. _

_"Mmmhmm. Don't be late, either." Dark blue-gray eyes twinkled with mirth, his thumb brushing Zack's bottom lip._

_"Yes, sir." Zack's eyes were just as bright. _

_"You can stay here for as long as you want, but—"_

_"Use the back exit. Make sure no one sees me. Yup, got it, sir." Angeal rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed dramatically. _

_"What am I going to do with you? You've practically moved in here."_

_"You're the one who gave me the key, you know," Zack grinned. _

_"Yes, I suppose that's true. I opened the floodgates to your clinging."_

_"You love me," Zack grinned even wider._

_"Yes, I suppose I would have to," Angeal laughed, a low noise that always made Zack feel warm. He started to move off the bed, but Zack pulled him back down. _

_"What, no goodbye kiss?"_

_"Zack, I'm going to see you in—" Lips crushed against Angeal's, and then the dream started to shift. It was Hojo's lips crushed against his own, and they were lying on a giant metal slab, sickly laughter folding over Zack as those lips came away from his mouth. _

"It's time for another injection," Hojo laughed.

Zack's body slumped to the floor of the drained mako tube, the assistant hauling him up by his armpits and injecting him with more of the sedative he'd come to loathe.

The last thing he remembered was the icy feeling slipping into numbness as he was laid back on the metal slab.

-x-x-x-


	12. Chapter 12

**Warnings:** Hardcore Zack angst. Yeah.

**Author's note:** This would have been up earlier, but I got totally distracted with Sims 2 FFVII stuff on Youtube. Something about watching Sephiroth skip across a field of flowers only to beam Cloud in the back of the head with a water balloon is supremely and thoroughly side-stitchingly awesome.

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

xxx

_Paranoia_

_In which I think I'm not that confident_

_A tiny hope that burns into my breath_

_A bitter smile delights me at the end_

xxx

Part Twelve

xxx

_"Time is our greatest foe and our greatest ally."_

_"Angeal, you sound like an old man saying that."_

"Where am I?"

His eyes opened slowly, but there was nothing but darkness. The sedative made his eyes weak, his movements sluggish, and his mind a fog of faces and memories.

His eyes closed again and he let himself drift.

_"We are all prisoners of time . . . did you know that?"_

_"Are we? I think we're as free as we wanna be."_

_"If only that were true, pup."_

_"Don't we have the freedom to choose our own destinies?"_

_"Some would say we do not—that some things, no matter how painful, are undeniably inevitable."_

_"So, you think we were destined to meet then?"_

_"I can tell you take this topic very seriously, Zack, but I'll answer your question anyway. Yes, I believe we were destined for many things."_

_"That doesn't exactly answer my question."_

_"Zack . . ."_

"Zack!"

_"We were poor, Zack."_

"Zack, please . . . please . . ."

_"Well . . . I'm a country boy, too."_

Cloud?

_"So you grew up in the country too, sir?"_

_"Yes. Small town, big dreams. Like you, Zack."_

Shaky breaths, wheezing coughs. Is that you, Cloud?

_"Can I ask you a question, sir?"_

_"Go ahead, Cadet."_

_"Where do you come from?"_

_"Banora."_

_"Banora . . . Banora . . . Where have I heard that before? Oh! In class! Is it true something called 'dumbapple' grows there?"_

_"Yes, it's true."_

_"What's up with that?"_

_"Perhaps I'll tell you one day."_

"I need you . . . please."

_"So what's Nibelheim like, Cloud?"_

_" . . . Oh, uhm, sir!"_

_"Relax, man. Uh, at ease. Yeah. So, uh, what's it like?"_

_"Cold. And misty. And mountainous. And I'm glad I'm here, rather than there."_

_"Really? You don't miss it?"_

_"Not really."_

_"Oh. Uhm."_

_"So . . . uh . . . Gongaga. What's Gongaga like, uh, sir?"_

_"Gongaga? Warm and happy and green everywhere. But, well, kinda simple. And as much as I liked running around barefoot and chasing this one girl everyone kept joking I was gonna marry one day—I wonder what she's doing these days—I knew I wanted something bigger, you know?"_

_"Yeah, something bigger. That's what I wanted too."_

"Cloud . . ." Zack groaned and fought his eyes open. Eventually they adjusted and he could see. The lights were low and they were both strapped to the metal slabs in the middle of the lab.

"Zack!" Bright eyes burned in the half-darkness. "Zack, talk to me." There was desperation there and his chest was heaving.

"Cloud? What's wrong?"

"D-do you hear it too?"

"Hear what?" Zack asked, a creeping feeling walking up his spine. Cloud looked around and then shook his head sadly as if to say he wasn't sure if he _could_ say. But Zack understood. If Hojo knew . . .

"Don't . . . you must be imagining things." Zack gave him a meaningful look. What he really wanted to say was "don't let him know".

_Please, Cloud, don't let him find out. _

Cloud looked at Zack, searching his eyes.

"Tell me a story. Any story, as long as it's a happy one."

"Hey, Cloud, before that . . . can I ask you something?"

Cloud forced a wan smile as if to grant permission, his split lips starting to bleed anew. Zack silently prayed that it wouldn't be the last one. A smile ghosted over his own lips in return.

"Do you believe in fate?"

xxx

_While I'm waiting to die_

_I don't look back_

_In a weird lullaby_

_I'll carry on_

_And the hope in my heart is dry_

_But I don't look back_

_And I cannot reply_

_I don't look back_

_While I'm waiting to lie_

_I'll carry on_

_While they want to decide for me_

xxx

Whenever they were both conscious, Zack told Cloud stories. He told him stories about simple things at first, things that had nothing to do with him but which had always made him smile—stories about legends and heroes that were half remembered and half made up to fill in the gaps memory couldn't supply. Cloud responded to them at first, but as time wore on and Hojo and his assistants started to experiment on him more and more and Zack less and less, he started to look at Zack with eyes that glowed but no longer sparkled. And it was then that Zack began to tell Cloud things he had never told anybody else.

It was the story of his life he was telling Cloud. The blond didn't ask for it, and probably couldn't even if he had wanted to, but it seemed to stop the way his body was always shivering. After a while, he knew whatever was being injected into him was taking root, taking over. The ironic thing was that Hojo couldn't be in Cloud's head, couldn't know exactly how much of him they were taking away, how much of him they were replacing with something Zack could only describe as Other. They treated him like a dog, and so he became one. After a while Cloud only responded to the sound of Zack's voice with grunts and groans, whimpers and small ticks of the hands and shoulders.

Sometimes they took Cloud out to what they called the "Observation Room". The first time Hojo had taken Cloud there, Zack had tried to stretch his hand out through the restraint. He had looked into his eyes, Cloud's staring back at him. And when they returned him, they put him onto the slab once again beside Zack. "Stay awake, Cloud. Stay with me. Don't leave me." Those words had amused Hojo even as Cloud's head lolled and he groaned, the needle descending into his black and blue forearm. "How sweet," Hojo had said.

After a while, Zack figured out that they had a pattern they followed for taking Cloud away from him, though his inklings about the passage of time were impossible to determine for certain. Sometimes it felt as though they had been there for mere months, but other times he thought they had been there for many, many years. Sometimes he caught his reflection in the mako tube as he was carried over to it. The first time he had seen it he was startled and could barely recognize himself—he looked almost gaunt, and tired and broken. Before he left for Midgar, he was tall, but the townspeople called him "Chocobo legs" because he was so thin. Looking at his reflection, he was reminded of himself at thirteen, but that look he caught on his face . . . no matter how old he was at that first moment of recognition, it was the look of a broken man who seemed old and young at the same time.

At first there had been two assistants, but one day the more nervous one—the one that handled Cloud more—walked over to Hojo as he was scrubbing his arms in the sink and held out a stack of papers clipped together, the leaves rustling as his hand shook. Hojo considered the papers with his serpent-like eyes and wiped his hands on a towel before he took the stack and scanned the title page preceding the documents.

"Now that the Nibelheim project is nearly complete, professor, I've asked to return to Midgar. My wife is—"

"I could care less what your reasons for leaving are," Hojo interrupted, fingers waving. He took a pen out of his lab coat pocket and flipped through the papers toward the back to sign his name and approve the man to return from Nibelheim. Zack watched from his slab curiously, wondering at what the man had meant by "the Nibelheim project". What project? Was their torture almost through? It gave Zack renewed hope, and his heart even hurt less when Hojo walked over to Cloud and tugged his closed eyes open with a thumb before shining a light into each one. The man left the lab without any other words, the sound of the heavy door closing after him as Hojo called his remaining assistant to his side. Cloud slowly opened his eyes, but they stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing, and he started to tremble.

"Shh," Hojo cooed. "Rebirth is a painful process, my boy." He turned toward the assistant, folding his arms behind him. "Bring him to the room," he ordered and then disappeared behind the door at the front of the lab. Zack caught a brief view of neat stacks of books and shivered, remembering how Sephiroth had literally buried himself behind them, his eyes flashing with hatred and pain.

_"Could it be that I was created the same way?"_

The more Zack thought about it, the less he understood.

_"Professor Gast . . . why did you have to die?"_

Zack's eyes met Cloud's limp body as he was half carried out of the door toward the back, and then they shut tightly.

_"At times I feel as if my mind is mired in fog."_

_"My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains. The arrow has left . . . the bow of the goddess."_

"The fates," Zack whispered as he heard the heavy metal door being closed. "Angeal . . ." Tears leaked from his eyes and slipped down into his hair and burning ears. His throat felt tight, and when he heard the horrible screams, he screamed too. The door opened and the assistant walked over to Zack, his hands shaking and wiping blood from his face. He looked down at the SOLDIER and frowned.

"I'm sorry, but I need to put you in now," he said. Zack only continued to scream, hot tears burning his cheeks. "Please don't make it hard . . . I don't want to put you out again," he whispered. Zack stopped, narrowing his eyes at the man. He felt no shame any longer. He was bruised and naked. His humanity and his stale hope were the only things he had any more, and even those things were rapidly crumbing in his hands like sand falling away through the cracks of his fingers. He used to pretend to be strong, used to hold his head up high and pretend he didn't just want to walk off into oblivion after Angeal. Cloud had changed that for him, had given him a reason to be and showed him that all he was, that all that he amounted to wasn't wrapped up in Angeal and that he hadn't died along with him. But now Cloud was gone too. Sometimes he thought he had Cloud, but the blond was always lost in the fog of his mind. Still he talked to him, told him about Angeal, the ghost between them. Sometimes he felt as though they were ghosts too.

Zack let himself feel, let himself give in to the pull of memories and pain and fear, aided by the ever-present screams. They sounded muddled and far away from inside the mako tube. He let himself feel so he never became numb. He thought of Sephiroth and Genesis and Angeal and Shinra and death and dying and burning apples and dreams and a hundred other things that latched onto his heart and tore savagely.

But no matter what, when Cloud was there with him, he smiled and remembered all the good he had in his life before Nibelheim. When he smiled he told Cloud about everything that was good and beautiful in life—things and feelings they'd experience again—and as time went on and on, he became grateful for the deep dreamless sleep he was afforded by the sedative and gave in to it more and more so that he was barely conscious, so that he barely heard Cloud's screams.

Eventually there were no screams and all seemed forgotten. Cloud's eyes were open, but he never looked at Zack with understanding again, and that made Zack cry and scream and give up.

He drifted in and out of consciousness, sometimes peering out of the mako tube and hearing tinny noises surround him like the buzzing of a fly. The only differences he ever felt was when he and Cloud were pulled out of their tubes three times a day for food, water, and other necessities.

And then . . .

"There's no point in my staying here any longer." Hojo.

"Professor . . ."

"I'm declaring Subject A and Subject B failed experiments, but if you'd like . . ."

"Sir?"

"A scientist still needs to be here to look over my research while I am in Midgar . . . and . . . to keep me up to date on the status of Nibelheim itself. You can do that, can't you?"

"Sir, it would be an honor. I . . . I can be that scientist. But what about the subjects?"

Even through the thick green, Zack could feel Hojo's eyes penetrating into his own.

"Leave them there. A scientist does not abandon his work, and who knows . . . they might still prove useful, if only for the data extracted from their dead bodies."

Sickly laughter drifted between the tubes, the metal slabs and the metal wires, growing louder before it finally died off and Hojo left the room, taking with him the rest of Zack's hope of ever escaping, his lab coat swishing.

xxx

_Once again, once again_

_Living in their cage, living in their cage,_

_They are killing me_

_Once again_

_Living in their cage, living in their cage,_

_They are killing me_

xxx

Zack was cushioned by the sound of a man's voice, but he never paid attention to it. The words ran into each other and he only ever caught snatches about loneliness and sacrifices for science and he would have felt sick ages ago, but nothing made him feel anymore. There was no point. Sometimes he could swear he heard a familiar-sounding voice, but he never cared enough to look.

Nothing ever seemed to change, so Zack slept on, no longer resisting or reacting to anything.

When his eyes opened after what seemed like eons of sleep, everything was fuzzy and too bright, but what he saw in front of him was unmistakable and completely impossible, bathed in light and yet springing from darkness. Feathers drifted down in front of the test tube and Angeal's face swam in front of his blurry eyes.

"You call yourself SOLDIER?" His voice flooded his ears, rich and deep and slicing through the fog of his rotting mind. His eyes slowly let all of details drift to him—the way his one wing gently settled by his side, its smaller counterpart, like the bud of a new flower, trailing through the air created by its bigger half. "You tarnish the SOLDIER name," he said, head turning off to the side and staring for a moment at Cloud before he moved away, his back turned to Zack and the Buster sword held firmly in his strong grasp as if to say "you don't deserve my dreams and my honor, not like this, not in such a pitiful state".

"Angeal! Wait!" Zack banged against the glass with all the strength he had in his body. He didn't care if it was a hallucination and he was going crazy from all of the lack that constituted his life now. He didn't care because it was Angeal and he had begun to forget what he looked like, had begun to forget the tiny details of his face he used to study harder than his combat books. Everything flooded back to him and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity he felt love and pain and loss slice through his heart like a blade. His cry was useless; Angeal was gone, his wing spreading and his body lifting up, erasing the stripped hard wood floors and test tubes and papers and books and shelves and metal and replacing it with a vast and endless sky. Zack looked up and was bathed in sunlight, his eyes squinting against the intense blue-white. It was so bright that his lips parted and a tiny noise slipped past his lips, a blinding whiteness obscuring the clouds for a brief moment before he could see again and a single white feather drifted down beside him. His feet shifted in pure clear water that slid like a lover's warm and comforting hands around his ankles. The gentle breeze at his back enveloped him and felt like an embrace and he looked down as the feather slowly settled in the water, its edges fanning out and glistening up at him.

He looked back up at the sky and saw an amorphous yellow glow spread across the clouds; it reminded him of a smile and he searched among the clouds for Angeal as if he could spot his soaring form.

"Those wings," Zack said softly, his eyes reflecting the color of the sky, full of sadness, determination and need. "I want them too," he breathed, hands curling into fists. Everything changed in those few moments and he remembered himself, remembered all he stood for and remembered why Angeal had given him the Buster sword. There was no answer from the sky but the slow crawl of the clouds and their smiling glow and as his heart swelled with returning hope and love, the sky and water shattered and he found himself dressed and holding the Buster sword in his grasp. His uniform fit differently than it had before, but it was good to feel the fibers of cloth against his skin, to feel the pommel and hilt of Angeal's—of his—sword pressed into his tightened fist. Before him Hojo's assistant lay sprawled across the ground, the shattered glass glimmering in the low light in his hair and over his lab coat. He bent down beside him and quickly searched his pockets, finding a key ring on him. He took a moment to glare down at the pitiful man before he looked up at the tank that held Cloud. The sight of him made him frown, his chest feeling tight like it had often felt before he fell apart and lost hope. He looked over at the table in the middle of the room and picked up a notebook, his eyes scanning the words out of sheer morbid curiosity. They seemed like journal entries. One regarding Cloud jumped up at him.

**It's been three weeks since Hojo's returned to Midgar and the novelty of being in charge is starting to wear off. It's lonely and cold here. I guess I felt the same in Midgar, though. At least here I can pretend that the test subjects are listening to what I have to say. No one ever does. What does authority really mean when you don't have anyone working under you? I guess harassing the young guards helps. **

**Sometimes it's hard to remain detached from the test subjects. Well, Subject B at least. And sometimes Subject A when he looks at B. B's been through the wringer, but I suppose what Doctor Hojo said is true. He would have died if we didn't experiment on him. Still, it's not much of a life. I like to think that he enjoys when I talk to him and bathe him. He never reacts to anything. Toxicosis really made him almost a vegetable so I have to feed him through an IV, but I don't mind.**

**I wonder if A knew B before they came to Nibelheim. It seems like it. In any case, I've grown pretty fond of him. That's weird, isn't it? But it's hard not to think of what he did before the toxicosis, when we put him in that room. He was a demon. Couldn't figure out if it was Mako rage or the Jenova cells, but he was really frightening. Looking down into his face now, you'd never think he'd be capable of it, but then I'm reminded that he killed Sephiroth. Really killed him. Even after he was stabbed. He's a demon with a sweet face. It's a good thing he'll never wake up. **

Reading those last few lines made anger flare powerfully through Zack. He flung the notebook aside, his eyes flashing as he stared down at the man. He wanted to kill him, to make him suffer even a tenth of what he and Cloud suffered, but his sense of honor and pride stayed his hand. The man wasn't worth more blood on his hands. Instead, he kicked him swiftly in the gut and opened Cloud's tube, letting mako pool around his shoes as the boy fell bonelessly into his awaiting arms.

"Cloud," he sighed. "I've got you, and I'm never letting go." He had dreamed of putting his arms around him and comforting him for what seemed like forever, so he crushed the boy to his chest and ran gloved fingers through his wet mako-drenched hair. He seemed to curl himself up against Zack, and whether it was a trick of his crazed mind or truth, he didn't care. He moved his face away to peer at Cloud's face and the boy's head lolled back lifelessly, his eyes wide and seeing nothing. Zack stared until the boy blinked, and then he sighed again. "Let's get you out of here."

xxx


	13. Chapter 13

**Warnings:** Catatonic Cloud for most of the rest of the fic. And Zack's angst about Catatonic Cloud. I swear this fic. ends on a happy note, though. Well, sorta.

**Author's note:** This took forever to write. I'm assuming it's 'cause of the ungodly heat and my inability to think. You'll get more about Angeal and the marigolds in the next few chapters. And it involves Genesis, of course. The next chapter will include where the song lyrics come from for parts 8-14. I wonder if any of you have guessed where they come from already. If anyone can identify any one song, I could do something in the way of fanart.

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_Maybe a mystic - with fortunes to tell..._

_Surrender my coin at the old wishing well..._

_Maybe the stars will light in the night..._

_To show me the path that is right_

-x-x-x-

Part Thirteen

-x-x-x-

Zack gently lay Cloud down against one of the metal slabs while he stripped the unconscious assistant of his lab coat. He came back over and tugged Cloud into a sitting position, pulling the coat on him. He held his arms out rigidly where Zack had placed them and groaned, head lolling back. Even with the garment buttoned to the top, his scar was still exposed, and the way the sleeves slipped past his knuckles made him seem more childlike to Zack. He looked at Cloud curiously and lowered his arms for him, wondering at him before he turned and glanced quickly around the lab, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything important or different. This time he noticed a few loose documents lying on the table where he had gotten the journal. Cloud's shoulders slumped as Zack moved away, but he remained sitting up, his arms at either side while his head rolled slowly up and then down. Zack stared back at him and then turned to the documents, examining each one.

"Subject B, weak tolerance to Jenova cells . . . toxicosis . . . Subject A, strong tolerance to Jenova cells . . ." And then his eyes caught on it. This one wasn't stamped official, by the looks of it. "Failed test subject experienced psychotic break before toxicosis." It was written in a sloppy hand, and blotches of blood stained the paper.

"H-he knew about the voices?" Zack's hand trembled, and then the memory of something he'd repressed came crashing back to him.

"He's in me! He's in me!" Cloud was screaming. Zack watched as Cloud tore at his chest directly over his scar, watched as red started to overtake green in a growing swirl of panic. Zack had asked Cloud what he meant, had yelled at him to stop as he banged on the side of his own mako tube as hard as he could, but Cloud was as hysterical as a clawing beast. Hojo and his assistant had to come and drag Cloud out of his tube—had to fix him after he had nearly killed himself.

"What do you think happened, Doctor? What does it mean?" the assistant had asked.

"It means nothing," Hojo had said scathingly, regarding Cloud like a child might regard a broken toy, "Nothing at all. The boy is a poor vessel. I should have known."

The last paper simply read, "Subject B. Lack of response to outside stimuli suggests severe system damage. Recovery highly unlikely."

Zack shook his head stubbornly and dropped the papers back onto the desk before he returned to the blond, bringing him down off the slab. The sound of Cloud's feet hitting the ground was soft, and for a moment Zack held his breath and his heart stopped as he drew the younger man into his arms and those fingers, previously curled tightly into two scratched palms, curled into the fabric of Zack's shirt instead. But Cloud's face held no recognition, no awareness; they only blinked, only looked far away. Zack exhaled sharply, a pained expression lighting his eyes up with unshed tears. He shook his head savagely and cradled Cloud for a moment.

"Come on," he whispered, repositioning Cloud against his shoulder. The blond's feet slowly shuffled alongside Zack's, sometimes wobbling at the ankles, and as they exited the laboratory and the library, the raven-haired man didn't look back.

-x-x-x-

_Here I am - at the crossing of life I stand_

_On my own - looking down the road_

_Hear my cry - answer me_

_Still I'm searching yet the truth is unknown - though the night is cold_

_I walk the road alone_

-x-x-x-

The direct sunlight was startling, as weak as it was in Nibelheim. It felt like ages since Zack had felt the warm glow of it; it felt like ages since he hadn't been washed in sickly green artificial light. But there was no time to revel in it with Cloud hanging around his shoulder and three Shinra guards lying dead and broken inside the mansion. The irony that he had once been trained by Angeal himself to eliminate Shinra troops—Wutai enemies in disguise—was lost on him as he half dragged Cloud through what he thought would be the ruins of Nibelheim. But everything was as it had once been, down to what seemed like every detail.

"Did I dream it?" Zack asked himself as he rested Cloud down beside the inn. He looked up at the sign and squinted at it. "What's going on? I saw this town reduced to ashes, but it's back the way it was before." When the Shinra guards attacked him, he knew he was far from free, and the feeling of dread and fear flared up with the sight of what Sephiroth had once laid to ruins restored before his very eyes. The grenade that went off a mere few feet from him tore him from his thoughts, and he was forced to fight more Shinra troopers.

"The professor's test samples are escaping!" one cried, and Zack suddenly saw that more were coming toward them. He laughed at their pitiful attempt to surround them and extended the Buster sword, a cocky smile spreading over his face. It had been a while since he had faced off against anything, and the stretch of his poorly neglected muscles empowered him, made him remember some of his former confidence and glory.

"It'll take more than your average grunt to take me down!" Zack cried out before swinging the Buster sword in a single arc and taking down half the men charging at him with it. All of them, by the look of the drawn lines of their mouths under the visors of their helmets, were older—men who, for various reasons—whether for political ambition or not, had never entered SOLDIER. As Zack hefted the blade for another crushing sword arc, his arm faltered and two guards fired their rifles at close range. For a moment—the longest moment of Zack's life—his muscles were locked, but at the last second he was able to deflect the blows with the broad side of the Buster sword. The sword felt heavier in his hands and his reaction time felt slower. Worst of all, he had hesitated and had not thrown himself into his actions as wholeheartedly as he once had.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see two guards pulling Cloud up between them.

"Cloud!" Zack shouted and as he kicked the two guards away and caught the blond in his arms, protecting them both with the broad side of his sword. There were guards everywhere. "Shit," Zack swore, "this is bad! I'd better take care of them quickly. I'm not letting us get caught again, Cloud." He sat the boy by the well and stood in front of him, his sword glowing with the light of Lightning as it coalesced and struck down four guards. He continued his materia-based attacks until he staggered forward and felt light-headed, and then he cut through the rest of the guards with a battle cry. When everything went still again, he felt dizzy and sagged forward on one knee in front of Cloud, his grip on his sword holding him up.

"Whoa . . . what's wrong with me today?" Zack shook his head and stood back up, staring down at Cloud's open lips forming silent words. "This can't be right . . . How could I be having trouble against these guys?" Cloud offered no answer, only opened and closed his fingers and made a soft noise. Zack sighed and tugged the boy against his chest. He slid an arm under the blond's knees and carried him back toward the mansion slowly, letting him back onto his feet when they approached the gate, his arms tired.

"It's daytime, and we're still a little weak," Zack explained, as if the blond had asked why they were returning to the mansion that had enslaved them. He felt he owed it to Cloud to tell him what was going on in his mind even if he couldn't respond. He was certain that somewhere inside, Cloud was still there, still conscious of everything. With a pang, Zack realized that even if he had saved the blond from the mako tube, he was still trapped, still in Hojo's clutches. Again the fingers latched onto Zack as they walked into the mansion's ornate front door. "Maybe we should rest until dark?" Zack stared at Cloud for a moment, stopping as the colored light and shadows from the patterned windows on the second floor fell across his face. He smiled softly, reassuringly, and with a hand moving into thick blond hair, nodded the boy's head.

"Zack Fair, SOLDIER 1st Class on the job. Everything's gonna be okay, all right?" He looked at Cloud and the boy only looked up, head falling on Zack's shoulder limply.

"Everything . . . a-all right," Cloud mumbled. Zack's eyes widened and he nearly dropped the boy in his excitement.

"Cloud?!" Zack pulled the blond in front of him and propped him on the staircase. His arms loosely fell from Zack's shoulders like rag doll limbs, still held awkwardly in the embrace they had been in. His lips were moving slightly, his eyes wide and unseeing. Nothing had changed. Zack cursed the pounding of his heart, the crushed excitement and adrenaline running through his body, and shook his head.

"Damn it," he said, gritting his teeth and bitterly rubbing his eyes with the palms of his gloved hands. "Thought you had . . ." And then he straightened himself and moved Cloud's arms back over his shoulders, sliding his own underneath his armpits to pull him up beside him.

"I'll get you upstairs . . . wash you up . . . find you some clothes." He nodded at his own plans, squaring his shoulders as Cloud clumsily slid one foot after the other up the stairs alongside Zack. He walked past the atrium—now full of death and dried cracked earth—and laid Cloud in the bed of the first bedroom he came upon. He stared at him for a while and felt lost, unsure of the future and what it would hold—he could only hope it held freedom. The blond's fingers were clawed up around his chest, just outside the scar, and his face was contorted with pain, his breaths labored. Zack sat at the edge of the bed and reached his hand out, uncurling Cloud's fingers and gently threading his own against them. He stayed like this for several minutes, just watching the pain and tension drain out of Cloud's face and body.

"You're in there," Zack whispered, "and I'm gonna get you out, all right?" Zack felt his chest swell, thoughts churning in his mind. He decided that they wouldn't be dealt with quite yet and let go of Cloud's hand to gently move out of the room and into the bathroom to see what he'd be dealing with. Inside he found a gigantic circular bathtub sitting under a large window with the same Victorian lace curtains that framed the windows in the bedroom. The bathtub looked as though it could hold two to three people easily, which suited Zack fine. Under any other circumstances, he would have smiled lewdly about it, but no thoughts of that nature now crossed Zack's mind—for the sake of practicality, it would be easier to wash Cloud if he could be inside the tub with him. He found shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the closet behind the mirror, studiously avoiding having to look at his reflection before he hurried back out toward Cloud, his findings laid out on the rim of the tub. When he came back inside the bedroom, the boy's head was turned toward Zack's, his eyes seeming to look right through him. Seeing those eyes so lifeless unnerved Zack; they were too much like dead eyes, though they still held the glow of mako and the sparkle of life, like a child as he dreams with his eyes open. Zack came closer to sit on the edge of the bed once again and shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.

"Cloud . . . could this be mako poisoning?" He shook his head again, looking back down at the wide eyes, the gnarled fingers that seemed to want to plunge inside scar and bone. "Or . . . something else?" The blond only moaned softly, his hands twitching. Once again, Zack pried Cloud's hands away and pushed them down at either side of his torso, fingers trailing over old self-inflicted cuts and scrapes that had never been fully healed.

"Angeal . . . am I just not capable of saving anyone?" Zack asked the ceiling once more. "I shouldn't have brought you here on this mission," he told Cloud, looking back down at him. "Sephiroth was . . . Sephiroth was acting weird even before we came to Nibelheim, like he knew something was here that would . . . change things." Cloud's eyes seemed to change slightly. They looked scared, almost. Zack wanted to believe it was because Cloud understood, but he just didn't know how much of his life was now built upon wishful thinking. Had Cloud really clutched at his shirt? Had he really repeated him when he told him that everything would be all right? _Would _everything be all right? There were at least another thousand questions that revolved just around the two of them, and each one of them was unanswerable and completely frustrating.

Suddenly, Zack clapped his hands together, his expression hardening.

"All right! I'm gonna go find some clothes for you. If I want you to recover, I can't be dragging you around in a flimsy lab coat." At this he laughed a bit. "Even if you do kinda look cute in it, Cloud. Like a kid playing at being a doctor." He smiled fondly at the boy, but of course he couldn't smile back. "Wait for me here. I'll be right back," he said, as if Cloud was going to jump up out of bed and wander around if he hadn't said so.

The process of looking through drawers and closets was a good distraction for Zack, though he nearly jumped at every noise, one hand moving back around the Buster sword's hilt for reassurance every once in a while. It was strange to him, how the sword had become like his security blanket. Every time he touched it, his hand almost tingled with the thought that Angeal had once been brought comfort and reassurance by it too. To think that he had unconsciously regarded it with the same reverence that Angeal had once regarded it with was a pleasant thought for him—something that Cloud had unconsciously reminded him of when he had said that he had never seen Zack use the sword. Of course he used it, but he spent many hours late at night polishing and sharpening it, staring at his fractured reflection in its surface, and looking for Angeal's battles in the lines of its use.

"Everything's gonna be all right," he told himself, and as he threw open the doors of a large armoire, he found a 1st Class uniform folded neatly beside shoulder guards, boots, leather straps, and belt buckles—all covered under an inch thick layer of dust. At least they were durable and would last the long hard journey he was unconsciously preparing himself for. He brought the items down off the shelf, along with the potions he found alongside them, and shook them out before folding them once again. He sat them on the writing desk in the middle of the room and looked around a bit more. He found a few sheets of paper amongst the books in the bookshelves and collected them all, sitting down to read them. They seemed to be more of the assistant's unofficial notes.

**The process of rebuilding the incinerated town has begun. The construction is somehow being overseen by the Turks. I would have thought that City Planning would be in charge of that, but . . ? Some ponytailed Turk has been coming around asking to speak to Professor Hojo, but he is routinely turned away. He refuses to say what he wants to see him about. Leave the professor be, Turk! He has important work to do!**

Zack stared at the sheet of paper, his confusion only seeming to grow stronger the more of these documents he found. The fact that they weren't marked with dates also confused him, made his mind churn with even more questions. He quickly looked through the other sheets he found. He shook his head, tossing the ones concerning the assistant's preoccupation with Hojo and Cloud aside. It seemed to him that he would find no more clues until he came upon the last sheet.

**We've finally released samples into town. They walk all around town, but do not seem to want to leave it. Furthermore, two of them are still in their pods. Again, no explanation is provided to me. Could the procedure have failed? No, impossible! Professor Hojo's experiments don't fail!**

"Samples?" Zack wondered aloud, staring at the sheet as if it could answer him. He didn't understand. The voice he sometimes heard arguing with Hojo . . . the ponytailed Turk . . . could that have been Tseng? The Turks had intervened when Banora was destroyed. Why was Nibelheim reconstructed? None of it made sense. It made him angry to think that Tseng knew about Hojo's experiments, but . . . if it was him who had come to the lab every once in a while to argue with Hojo about . . . something, then what could he possibly argue about? It was strange, how Tseng had orders to watch over Aerith—she was an Ancient after all—but that he did so with a sort of protective fondness . . . it was odd, to say the least. Once, he had seen the Turk smile at the lilies that so favored Aerith's church. Whenever he saw that smile, it was always because of Aerith, and their strange camaraderie—something that didn't often happen between SOLDIER operatives and Turks—seemed to stem from their mutual fondness for the all-important flower girl.

He shook his head of the thoughts swirling in his mind and lifted the SOLDIER uniform, returning to Cloud. He found him in the exact same position he had left him in, arms outstretched by his sides, head resting on his shoulder. His eyes were closed now, and he was completely still, but as Zack approached with the SOLDIER uniform, the sleeping boy started to wail, his whole body growing rigid and tightly coiled. The older boy dropped the uniform at the foot of the bed and gently placed his hand on the blond's forehead, watching tears leaking from his wet lashes. The wailing tapered off slowly and soon he was just trembling slightly.

"If you do wake up," Zack sighed, "would I be enough?" he asked. "Living with so much pain . . . would you want to live for me? Could I ask you to do that for me? I asked it of Angeal once . . . and I dunno if I can ask again, but . . . Cloud . . . I wanna be selfish this time. I'm not letting you go. I'm with you, always. Please, if you can hear anything I say . . ." And then he stood, his hands shoved inside his pockets, and felt it. He slowly drew it out—a crumpled, folded sheet of paper. He looked back at Cloud and opened the paper up, staring down at the words that stared up at him; they were written in a small delicate hand. "I have twenty-three tiny wishes, but you probably won't remember them all, so I put them all together into one: I'd like to spend more time with you." He gently smoothed the paper out on the table beside the bed and folded it back up, turning around to face Cloud once more.

"Hey, Cloud. I . . . I have to go Midgar." Aerith could touch anyone's pain and sadness and somehow make them feel lighter, stronger. She could somehow touch dry cracked earth and make it warm and soft again. When he thought of her, he pictured her hands clasped around lilies, an image just as vivid and strong as his image of Angeal's hands tending to marigolds.

_ "My lilies are better than potions, you know."_

_"Yeah? How's that?"_

_"They heal wounds like nothing else can—especially these ones grown here. One day, it'd be nice to spread the whole world with them, don't you think?"_

Wounds. When he looked at Cloud, he saw a wound nothing and no one could possibly ever fix. Zack smiled at the sheet of paper once more and stuck it back in his pocket.

"You wanna come with me?"

Cloud opened his eyes slowly, staring ahead blankly. Zack took it as a yes and smiled as he scooped the blond into his arms.

"I'll get us cleaned up, dress you, and then we're out of here, okay?"

The bath was harder for Zack than he thought it would be. They had never bathed together before, and it was bittersweet to run his hands over his glistening skin. He traced the scar on Cloud's chest reverently, studying it, and felt his heartbeat, so close to where the mottled lines ended.

"We're both scarred, on the inside and outside," Zack whispered. He looked up at the window after he had finished bathing Cloud and pulled him up against his chest, pretending that Cloud would turn around at any moment and look into Zack's face with that timid little smile that lit up the cloudy blue of his eyes. Eventually he had to move, both their fingers as wrinkly as prunes, and he got out of the tub carefully so he didn't disturb the boy in the water. He toweled himself off and then gently lifted the blond out of the tub, some of the water sloshing out of the sides. He leaned him gently against his side and sat him on the towel-covered toilet, grabbing another to get him dry. He led him gently back into the bedroom and dressed him in the uniform. With his pale skin and hair, he looked like a ghost against the stark blackness of the uniform, but it suited him much better than his Cadet uniform, though it was clearly tailored for a much taller man.

"It looks good on you," he smiled.

When he looked outside the window again after gathering up his things—his Buster sword and a rucksack he'd found by the closet containing pots, pans, and a few other survival items—the sun was setting and the sky was slowly becoming a deep cerulean.

"Time to head out," he told Cloud gently, strapping his sword and the rucksack to his back. He studied the blond's face one more time, looking for any signs of awareness, and then he pulled him gently up off the bed, leaving the lab coat behind as they exited the mansion once again.

A few Shinra guards were outside waiting for them. Zack expected more, and once they had been taken care of, he was edgy and expected to be ambushed, but there was only the cold mountain air and the quiet town—noises of peaceful quiet.

"They've gotta be waiting for us outside the town then," Zack said, sighing. He looked at where he had propped Cloud and then slowly followed the structure up.

"A well, huh?" He looked back down at Cloud. "You ever make any wishes here when you were a kid? We have one too. They say the wishes you make come true. Got no time to get all the way up there with you, but let's just say we went up there. I know what my wish is, Cloud." He leaned down, pulled Cloud up against him, and gently started to walk them out of the town. "It's to save you," Zack said softly.

As he uttered those very words, a shooting star shot across the sky above their heads.

-x-x-x-


	14. Chapter 14

**Warnings: **Catatonic Cloud for most of the rest of the fic. And Zack's angst about Catatonic Cloud. I swear this fic. ends on a happy note, though. Well, sorta.

**Author's note:** I'm sorry this took so long to get up (over a month, yikes). I have no real excuse other than feelings of inadequacy. Thank you so much to everyone who's following this fic. and tons of love to the people who take the time out to comment! There will be a few more chapters, so I hope you will continue to read and comment! As compensation for the time spent away from this fic., there is a bit of fluff, despite a catatonic Cloud.

**Songs at the beginning of each part:**

Part 8: Feist – Honey Honey, Within Temptation – Angels, HYDE – Shallow Sleep (English Ensemble)

Part 9: Tiamat – For Her Pleasure, Angra – Mama, Nightwish – Higher than Hope

Part 10: Within Temptation – Angels

Part 11: HYDE – New Days Dawn

Part 12: Lacuna Coil – When A Dead Man Walks

Part 13: Symphony X – Awakenings

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_Oooh, can't get enough of this_

_All that is thirst_

_All that is thirst_

_Oooh, playing new Hide and Seek:_

_Keep moving still_

_Keep moving still_

-x-x-x-

Part Fourteen

-x-x-x-

After they left Nibelheim, there seemed to be an everlasting stretch of dry blackened earth and looming gnarled trees. Every once in a while Zack had to pull Cloud tight to him, had to adjust him. He told himself it was because Cloud's arms were slipping, but it was because he had been walking for hours with only the trees and the moon to keep him company. It was comforting to feel Cloud against him, to hear him breathe and groan occasionally. The younger man seemed to be lost in a world scarier than any loneliness Zack was experiencing, and so he crushed his own feelings. When they traveled at night, he couldn't speak freely, couldn't pretend Cloud was all right. He could see the moon through the dark branches as it ascended higher and higher in the sky. He looked up, watched the sky slowly brighten as he dragged exhausted legs onward.

"I'll sleep a little," he told himself in a soft voice. "It will be dawn soon. Just a little. Only a few minutes." He nearly collapsed down by a rock and pulled Cloud up against him, immediately falling into a deep troubled sleep.

When he awoke, the sun was high in the sky and Cloud was whimpering softly, tears leaking through long lashes. Zack cursed and pulled himself around Cloud tightly, stroking his hair.

"Sorry, kiddo. I didn't mean to sleep so long. I know you're nervous, but you're gonna have to leave it all up to me." Zack sighed, and as he sat there against the rock holding Cloud, the fuzzy details of his dream slowly came back to him. He remembered a marigold field that seemed to stretch on forever. High above, the rays of the sun slivered through the clouds like ladders, and a strong wind darkened the sky and made the clouds rush across the sky. As the wind moved through the flowers like a single cascading wave, they shriveled and turned gray, dead. He could see Genesis, his lips moving but no sound coming forth, his hands outstretched toward something, someone.

_"Why do you plant those things? They don't look like much."_

_"They remind me of home."_

_"No kidding . . . You're homesick, Angeal?"_

_"Timesick, I think, is more appropriate. Things were simpler. I had a friend . . . he used to tell me—these simple flowers, they don't look like much, but they are the champions of the planet's goddess. Her armor, her strength. So they have become my strength."_

Zack sighed. Angeal didn't talk much about the marigolds, but he would sometimes see him crouched over them, his ungloved fingers trembling–_trembling—_as they barely touched the soft golden petals as if in a silent prayer.

_"Marigolds . . . they'll grow anywhere. Even here. I think they're needed here in Midgar the most. A flower that doesn't smell sweet . . . a flower that seems like it's nothing when alone, but when together . . . The flower of Midgar. What do you think, Zack?"_

Angeal was a secretive man, and Zack had always let him keep his secrets despite his curious nature. He had simply learned when it was best to ask questions, when to ask Angeal to reveal himself in part. There was no doubt in his mind now. Angeal was sending him dreams, Angeal was watching over him. He smiled and got himself together.

"What do you say we look for something to eat, Cloud?" he asked. After a moment of adjusting Cloud on his shoulder he nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty hungry too."

Several hours later, the sun was lowering in the sky and Zack was tiring of chasing goats and squirrels. Each time he came up short, he shrugged at Cloud and began walking with him again, his stomach growling louder and louder.

"Good thing no one's on our trail at the moment," Zack laughed. "My stomach would definitely do us in."

The sun was setting when the trees began to become sparser, which meant less places to hide. Zack trudged along several paths trying to find a less open area, but everything led to a field. All along the tall brown grass Zack could see marigolds, their golden heads rustling in the wind. Zack tugged Cloud along, rushing toward a densely populated marigold hill beyond a large mossy rock. He propped Cloud up against it and, looking up beyond the rock, spotted a lighthouse in the distance.

"Can't stay here long," he told Cloud. "But isn't it nice? Reminds me of . . . I should stop talking about him, huh? I don't want you to feel weird. You know I like you a lot." He looked at Cloud for a few moments and then shook his head. "Okay, okay. More than like. I mean, after all, I'm not hauling you around for nothing, so don't think I don't care." He searched Cloud's expressionless face some more. "I'm digging myself in deeper, aren't I? Well, I'll tell you what, Cloud," and he plucked a few of the marigolds, starting to weave their stems together, "when I was a kid, I used to make these crown things for girls. They loved them. Words are kinda dumb. How about I make you a crown?" He looked down, examined his work, and several minutes later he placed a crown of marigolds atop Cloud's head, snickering.

"I know, it's pretty girly, but I meant what I said." He watched Cloud roll his head back and groan. "Don't make me say the words," Zack sighed, gently palming the back of Cloud's head and lifting it back up towards him. "We're dudes. Just remember . . . it's true. Sappy and weird as it is, that's why I'm dragging your ass around. I just need some help, apparently, and it seems like he's happy to give it. With . . . with an angel on our side, Cloud . . ." And he stopped, nodding and taking Cloud's cheeks in both hands. "I'll stop talking about him. But he's up there somewhere watching us, okay? He's gonna make it okay for us." He looked curiously at Cloud and then leaned in, brushing his lips to the younger man's slightly parted ones. When he pulled back away, he frowned.

"Thought I'd give it a try, you know. See if you woke up if I kissed you." He took the crown of marigolds off Cloud's head and twirled it around his fingers. "Guess you're not sleeping beauty then, huh?" he laughed, but it was a sad laugh. "Wonder where you are. I'll send you a postcard; it'll read 'wish you were here'." And with that, he stood and pulled Cloud up beside him, resting the marigold crown on the rock.

-x-x-x-

_Clouds_

_I've tried to carry_

_Upon my shoulder_

_Keep gentle and patient_

_Befriend the weather_

-x-x-x-

The moon was bright in the sky and its light was almost painful to look at compared to the roving light of the lighthouse. The ocean, as beautiful as it was, especially with the moon shimmering over it calmly, immediately made Zack's heart drop. He had always seen the ocean in such a positive light, but now, with the world seemingly turning its back on him, he felt as though a prisoner of not just some Shinra scientist, but the world. He thought of Angeal's wing, he thought of freedom, and of Cissnei as she smiled and told him what angels meant to her.

"Huh," Zack sighed as he jammed his hands onto his hips and rocked forward, staring at the moon, its brightness making his pupils dilate before they adjusted. "Where do I go from here? Can't do much when I've got Cloud to worry about." Even then Cloud weighed heavily on his mind. He had propped him up against a hidden spot before he took care of the rest of their welcoming party. It was getting tiring to drag Cloud around and to worry whether or not he would still be there when he returned from scouting the areas they crossed. It seemed like they would never get to Midgar at this rate.

The word "freedom" echoed in Zack's mind.

"Angeal," he whispered, imploring the sky, "what do I do?"

There was no answer, only footsteps getting closer and closer and the familiar personal scent of . . .

"Hey, Cissnei," he called out, back still turned to her. "Been awhile."

_"When I was a kid, I wanted to have wings. It was a dream of mine. Wings like an angel's . . .wings are for people who wish to be free. They could never belong to a monster."_

Zack closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"Zack," Cissnei called softly, "the fugitive sample . . . is it you?" He could hear the hesitation in her voice, the reluctance.

"It would appear so," Zack said, shrugging.

"What . . . did they do to you in that place?" She sounded soft, afraid, and most of all sympathetic. Zack waved his hand, nonchalant.

"Well . . . this and that." No one needed to know. He wanted to forget. When he closed his eyes, he could see angel wings and glass shards flying through the air. He finally faced Cissnei, taking in a deep breath. "So, Cissnei, you're here to take us back, right?" He saw her grip slip a little on her shuriken, the hardness falter a little in her eyes. "Please, just walk away!" he implored her. He felt real desperation—the aching need to be free. It was a need he became aware of when he was just a boy feeling confined by the forest he was not allowed to explore, but now . . . now it screamed and singed all inside his body, a need dying to be fulfilled now that it had felt true oppression, a true cage. "I thought we could outrun the army," he said, the desperation dying down to something serious, almost quiet and unlike Zack. "But the Turks are a different story."

Cissnei's mouth twitched and she tightened her grip on her shuriken, her eyes remaining full of her reluctance. There was pain there, and Zack understood that Cissnei hated that they were from different worlds. He could see that she was at war with two sides: the emotionless Turk she was supposed to be and the caring, loving woman she wanted to be for him. There was a bit of Aerith in her, and Zack knew she would never be the emotionless weapon she was meant to be, that she wanted to be—not when it came to him, not when it came to much else. There was once a time when Zack could squint and see Sephiroth the same way, but it hurt to think of what became of him now.

"Zack, I'm sorry," she said, her voice just as desperate as his had been, "this is my _job_. If you want to escape, you'll have to . . ." she raised the shuriken, her eyes averted from Zack's. She couldn't finish her sentence, but Zack didn't have to hear her say it to know what her next words would have been. Reluctant as Cissnei was, Shinra appeared to be her everything. It seemed to be all she knew, despite her dream of angel wings and freedom. He watched her shuriken leave her hand as if in slow motion, easily deflecting it with the Buster sword.

"Stay back," he said, half-heartedly forcing gruffness into his voice. "Next time I'll really have to . . ." His sentence trailed off, but as Cissnei looked up at him, frozen in her position, he knew that she didn't need to hear the rest of what he was going to say either. Understanding flowed between them like a dull ache and their eyes locked for what seemed like forever before Zack raised his sword and kept it pointed at Cissnei as he ran off to find where he had set Cloud down by a tree. There was that brief moment where his heart skipped a beat and sped up like a drum. There was hope that Cloud would see, really _see_ him and laugh and talk, and there was that fear that he would be gone, snatched by someone, taken away to be stuffed back in the lab to collect dust like the jars of embryos and brains.

"The Turks are here, too," he explained, pushing messy blond bangs up and out of Cloud's eyes to see them staring intently at the ground. "It's too dangerous to move now. We'll rest here until morning. Then we'll leave at dawn." He stared up at the sky, nodding to himself, to Angeal, so that he could convince himself. "Eh, we'll be all right." A tiny smile quirked at the sides of his mouth and he pressed his forehead against Cloud's, gloved fingers full of the sunshine and hope that was Cloud's hair. "We'll be all right so long as I've got the sun right here to guide me," he whispered. As he pulled himself away, his eyes roamed over Cloud, his skin seeming almost translucent under the shimmering light of the moon. When he heard slow steps through the grass, he knew it would be Cissnei again, and his shoulders tightened as he stepped in front of Cloud.

"Cissnei," he said, the name dripping with a warning tone. Cissnei's brows furrowed and she stared past Zack to the slumped figure of Cloud behind him. Her eyes were fixed on the vacant stare of those large mako-flooded eyes.

"Wait . . . He . . . he's the other sample they collected at Nibelheim." Zack stepped back and curled his hand protectively in blond spikes.

"Why did you come here?" he practically hissed. "I told you to go away." Cissnei looked taken aback by the hurt venom in Zack's voice and averted her eyes, her hand jamming into the pocket of her suit jacket to play with something inside, her fingers twisting nervously. Finally she raised her eyes to find that Zack had been staring with confusion and anger at her. She sighed heavily.

"He doesn't look well, Zack." She stepped to the left past the barrier Zack had made to peer at Cloud once more, and Zack shifted defensively, covering Cloud with his body once more. Cissnei frowned. "Is he all right?"

"Mako addiction. Severe case." Cissnei seemed startled to hear the bitterness in Zack's voice, and she tilted her head, her frown deepening.

"The experiments . . . He did this to him, didn't he?" Zack narrowed his eyes for a moment.

"Yeah . . ." Cissnei's frown disappeared and she stuck her hand in her other pocket, pulling out her phone. A noise left Zack's throat and he began to move forward, terror in his eyes, but Cissnei held up her hand to him and gave him a sympathetic look. He watched her warily, his whole body coiled.

"Tseng," she said, her eyes trained on Zack's, "I've lost the target." After a few moments, she lifted the phone from her ear, clicked it shut, and slid it back into her pocket. Zack's mouth parted slightly, his eyes searching Cissnei's. "That's how it is," she said softly, "so get away safely." There was such compassion in her eyes that Zack slowly relaxed.

"Cissnei . . . thank you." He watched her begin to walk away slowly, but then she stopped, her hand sliding back into her pocket to play with whatever she had been playing with before, as if making a decision. She turned back around and withdrew a set of keys, holding them out in her palm and walking toward Zack to take his hand in hers. She gently deposited the keys and nodded her head, auburn hair bouncing against her shoulders.

"Here's a present. If you think you can trust me, then use it." Her hand lingered, her eyes lingered. And then she was gone. Zack stared down at the keys and fingered them briefly before depositing them into his pocket. He walked over to Cloud and dropped to one knee.

"We're lucky I'm such a charming guy," he said, smiling as he dropped both hands onto Cloud's shoulders.

-x-x-x-

_Sweet_

_Must be the new road for water, for water_

_Hands_

_Can't even hold a thing_

_The air tastes useless_

-x-x-x-

Zack didn't know where they were, just that they'd been on the road for hours. Time blended just like it had in the lab, but on the road, at least he knew when the days passed, when the nights were upon him. And like that, the fog of his brain quieting after the smoke of their modest meal, after helping Cloud eat, after bathing him with agonizing slowness and pain, he leaned up against the tree he had rested Cloud against and dozed off.

He didn't know how long he'd been sleeping like that, the ash from their deadened fire in his nose, but it was Cloud who woke him up, Cloud who made his heart ache. It was hard, waking up to the feeling of fists curled into the fabric of his shirt. It was hard to hear his labored breathing, to imagine the demons that clawed at the strings of his mind.

Zack tilted Cloud's head up toward his own to look into his eyes. They looked glassy with pain and after a full minute of staring into them, of studying his features, Cloud began to claw and scream. Zack quickly covered Cloud's mouth and hugged him close, trying to soothe him. Any amount of noise was dangerous, especially when it was so quiet. Eventually the pain and the fear drained away from Cloud, though the tears remained and soaked the front of Zack's turtleneck, his fists still curled tightly into the fabric, gripping on for dear life.

"He . . . he . . ." Cloud muttered against Zack's palm as it slid away. "T-there."

"Shh," Zack whispered, his thumb tracing cracked lips. "I don't know where you are in there, but . . . I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you." He pressed his lips softly to Cloud's and after he moved his head back away, Cloud's eyes slipped closed and his head gently fell against Zack's chest, his fingers loosening their tight grip. Zack only pulled him closer, taking his pulse frantically to make sure he was still there, still with him even though his mind wasn't.

"Stay with me, Cloud," he whispered against the shell of one ear. "We'll get through this. We have to." He smiled, kissing the ear. "Hey, listen, I'm not gonna say those words exactly—I don't think they mean much, you know, and we're dudes and we're not supposed to, you know—but . . . what I feel for you . . . it's more. I'll . . . I'll keep you alive with that feeling. So you see, then, that you can't be gone. You can't always be like this. I can't lose you. I couldn't save Angeal, I couldn't save Sephiroth, but you, Cloud . . . I'm gonna save you. You hear me?" He cradled the back of Cloud's head with one hand, and with the other tilted his chin up. Bright blue eyes slowly opened, staring past Zack into whatever oblivion he couldn't break from. Zack searched those faraway eyes for some kind of recognition, but there was none. Zack sighed and pulled him close.

"Goodnight, Cloud," he said softly, hands running through sun-colored hair, marigold hair.

-x-x-x-


	15. Chapter 15

**Warnings:** Spoilers for Crisis Core? But you know that already. Nothing to warn you about other than that. XD

**Author's note:** Okay, okay, the last chapter I wrote of this fic. was put up in July. I've kept you guys waiting long enough. In my defense . . . okay, I have no real defense.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

One day

I know

We'll find

A place of hope

Just hold on to me

Just hold on to me

Walk tight

One line

You're wanted

This time

There's no one to blame

Just hold on to me

-x-x-x-

Part Fifteen

-x-x-x-

Zack loved the feeling of the wind whipping around his head. In his mind it was akin to the feeling he often got when he was younger and toed off his sandals, trading stiff leather for the soft blades of brilliant green grass that used to tickle the soles of his feet. He had since practiced the same ritual whenever he found himself with time to spare and grass to tread, but nothing compared to those moments in Gongaga where bare feet equaled freedom. He had left Gongaga to find his own freedom, but now, after finally acquiring some wisdom, he found himself in the odd position of yearning for home, of yearning for those simpler moments of pure joy.

And so it was as Zack tipped his head back and closed his eyes that he decided that he would return to Gongaga. The motorcycle, so kindly given to him by Cissnei, roared as he sped up. As strange as it felt at first, he was numb; it wasn't like the feeling of numbness in the lab. It was a freeing kind. All the troubles he should have been feeling just melted away, replaced by the feeling of the wind whipping his hair around his face. No one was on the road—it was narrow and barren, the sort that ghosts traveled—and when he opened his eyes again, he could see hills rising and falling, rising and falling, all of them covered by sparse grass. He was entranced. He was captivated. He was tired. But he kept going. Kept pushing on, even as the roar of the motorcycle throbbed dully in his ears and made them ring.

He didn't know it, but it would be his sixteenth hour on the lonely dusty road, and ever since they had escaped the lab (he and Cloud) he had only grabbed snatches of sleep. The dusty road soon turned to highway, but that was all that changed. They must have been exiting the vast dustbowl they had been swept up in for what seemed like an endless amount of time.

He didn't know where Gongaga was, but he trusted that fate—that Angeal—would lead him there, and as the moon bathed his face in gentle light, he saw the road before him in the present time—dull, wide, long, lonely—and the strangely reminiscent flickers of a simpler time.

He was a fugitive on the run, then and now. He could see his bare toes splayed out like a frog's in the grass. His mother had always said, "you have your father's toes—good for climbing trees". With his big ears (he had never quite grown into them) and his long toes, he was known as "Monkey Boy" to Sarai, the girl who lived next door. His mother had also told him that people gave him names because he was likable. He was born "Zachary", but even when his parents disapproved of his actions they never called him by that name. Even as a cadet when he would say: "call me Zack", people did. Not just his equals, but people of authority. Or they gave him another nickname to add to the growing list. "Chocobo Legs" didn't bother him and neither did "Monkey Boy". Certainly not "Puppy" (it was, of course, his favorite). He wore his awkward youth like a medal. Even then, on that grassy field (at his most awkward) he could make girls swoon. Sarai pretended to be annoyed. Beside him, her long neck craned upward toward his face, he could remember "Monkey Boy" passing her lips in a strange sort of whispered hiss.

"_We're fugitives!"_

"_Fugitives don't stop to feel the grass under their feet, _Monkey Boy_."_

He pulled her shoes off. She giggled. He ran, she followed.

"_Not so fast!"_

"_Keep going! We're almost there!"_

"_Where, Zack? Where?"_

"_Here!"_

The edge of Miller's farm. The kissing gate. Zack closed her in. She blushed. It was his first kiss.

Zack knew that details grow fuzzy over time, but he could remember how Sarai's hair looked in the sun and he could remember that look of fear and excitement in her eyes as he pulled her shoes off and dragged her along with him. They were hiding, he had said. She asked him what they were hiding from, he knew that, but what he supplied he couldn't know. He couldn't really remember anything particular about the kiss, just that it was his first. He remembered her hair and her skin better than anything else. Details grow fuzzy just like the lines on the long highway. Standing still they are disconnected, but with speed they become one long continuous line. If you stare closely enough, you can just make out the gaps, but the eye sees so many things at once, and memories are faulty in a funny way just like vision.

The air felt crisper somehow to Zack, but he realized that it was because he could feel the air rushing over his face again after an absence. He had been lost in memories and had lost the feeling of being grounded in the present. When you lose things you really know what they meant to you in the first place. Moments. People. Zack never took anything for granted, not really, but he had also never slowed down to really _think_. And now everything was strange, turned over and inside out. He looked down beside him briefly and smiled. Golden hair ruffled in the wind. Cloud sat in the sidecar of the motorcycle, head bobbing from side to side as the engine roared.

Zack revved the engine, passed a sign on the highway that read "Gongaga – 100 miles" and cried out into the open night air.

"Shinra makes good stuff!"

He laughed deliriously. His chest swelled. He could even almost smell his mother's cooking. He could go days without real food and hadn't had real sleep since his first mako injection, but he sometimes yearned for the crazy amounts of food his mother cooked. He often dreamed about it with his eyes open. He was so hungry and the road was so long. If he could just hold out longer . . .

But as he crossed the bridge that led from the dustbowl to wherever this was (everything felt so different, so lifeless) he felt the air change and could see black wings and degrading skin, smell the smell of stony flesh. Gnashing teeth flashed in the moonlight and the great big wings of two Genesis copies cut through the air.

"Not again," Zack groaned. He could remember Sephiroth's face in the reactor when he saw Genesis again after his supposed death. It was no surprise—they had been dealing with copy sightings before then. It was only a matter of time until Genesis showed up, but neither of them expected when he would appear with news that would affirm Sephiroth's secret suspicions. The wheels that had been slowly turning that day in Sephiroth's office as he looked at the pictures of the Nibelheim monsters were set in fast motion that fateful day in the reactor.

"_Genesis, so you _are _alive!"_

"_I suppose I am. If you can call _this _living."_

The copies circled through the air above Zack and slowly touched down onto the ground, eyes flickering from him and then over to Cloud.

"Hey," he called to them, voice terse, as he parked the motorcycle in the middle of the highway and walked toward them. They only cocked their heads and looked to the sky. Zack's face scrunched up. Usually the copies attacked without warning, but they seemed to be waiting for something. He strode toward them, sword drawn, and readied himself to clear the path once more, but a shadow fell over him and as he turned, Genesis was upon him, boots to the back of his skull. Zack flew forward, but caught himself on his crouched knees, turning around to face Genesis right as he touched down onto the ground, his black wing curling around his side, arms spread out as if feeling the air around him, a smile on his lips and a dumbapple sitting in his palm. Typical.

Zack narrowed his eyes and began to rise up off his haunches when the two copies came upon him and held him down. The one to his right had its fist closed tightly in his hair and was yanking his head back and hard.

"Get off me!" he yelled, struggling to gain access of his sword arm. He could only see the dark clouds in the sky, hear the echo of footsteps come toward him. "Ow! My hair! Stop pulling!" he growled out, shaking his head from side to side vigorously, but suddenly his vision was filled with Genesis. His cold smile, the smell of his degrading flesh, and his stony gloved fingers. He was like a living statue, his steps heavy and loud. Zack could remember that when he had held Angeal in his arms after he died, he had felt heavy. Heavier than he had ever felt in his arms. Heavier than anything he had ever held. He could still remember the sound of his body hitting the floor when he was dragged away from him. So heavy. It was the touch of those stone fingers that triggered the memory, and he jerked his face away as if they had stung him, but the fingers in his hair strengthened and he couldn't go far. He felt as if the strength had been sapped from his limbs, as if Genesis had taken it all away with his presence. But the truth was that ever since Zack had escaped the Shinra Mansion, he felt a strangeness inside him he couldn't quite pinpoint. It was harder to harness his abilities at times, as if he hadn't used them in quite some time. He couldn't be sure how long he and Cloud had been in that lab and felt something unsettling in the pit of his stomach every time he thought about it. So many questions he didn't have the answers to. So much confusion.

Genesis laughed and patted Zack's cheek, his lip curling with disgust before he turned away and started walking slowly in a line, one foot placed in front of the other so carefully one might think he was walking a thin wire. But Zack knew that walk well. _Loveless_ lines were coming. He narrowed his eyes once more, weary of Genesis and the enigma he represented. He just didn't _get_ Genesis. He wanted to know why everything had soured. Why Angeal and Sephiroth had had to die, why Genesis had to be the nail that drove into their hearts. But it was beyond him. He wondered, too, if it was beyond Genesis even. Angeal had been intent on saving Genesis. That was what led Sephiroth to believe that Angeal had betrayed him. The story of their lives was just as confusing as _Loveless_ and Genesis's fascination with those repetitive lines.

The lines floated over Zack. He heard but did not understand. The Goddess . . . what did she really mean to Genesis? The friendly rivalry he had witnessed between those three friends . . . it had never really been friendly at all, had it? At least on Genesis's end. But he could not pretend to know.

" . . _. her gift everlasting_," Genesis finished. Zack only caught the end because Genesis's voice had trailed off sadly. He rubbed the apple against his cheek as if it were a precious gift. To Genesis, it was. All he knew about dumbapples was that they didn't know what was good for them. That wasn't a gift—that was unfortunate, just like the story of the three friends who were torn apart by the secrets of Shinra.

He realized too late that Genesis was staring at him again, that same look of disgust plain on his soft features. He followed Genesis's eyes and realized that the copy no longer held him by the head. In its gloved hand were strands of his own dark hair.

"That's my hair!" he yelled. Genesis smiled smugly.

"You were a test subject for Hojo's new experiment. A modified version of Jenova's power runs through you."

"What?!" Zack cried, remembering Sephiroth staggering out of the Jenova chamber with that armless creature's head in his hand. His mother, he kept calling it. "Seriously?" Zack watched as the copy brought the strands to its mouth and stuffed them down its throat, swallowing in one loud thick gulp. Zack's eyes widened.

"No way," he said in a low voice, "he . . . he just ate my hair!"

"Your cells will be my gift of the goddess. The degradation will cease," Genesis explained, excitement trailing thickly in his voice as he opened his arms toward the sky, his eyes on his invisible goddess. Finally Zack found his strength and broke away from the copies. His frustration fueled his tired body.

"You," he spat, "are twisted." Genesis shrugged, looked through Zack to the copies.

"The monster has been harvested and can be discarded," he said. And as he turned his face down in thought Zack's blood grew hot with impulsive anger.

"You're the monster!" he growled. But Genesis was reciting his _Loveless _lines once more.

"_Legend shall speak; Of sacrifice at world's end_," he whispered, turning on his heel without another look back. Zack followed, eyes smoldering with mako, but Genesis was already ascending into the sky.

"_The wind sails over the water's surface; Quietly but surely_."

Zack watched his form disappear into the darkness, watched one of the copies trail him in the sky. He turned to investigate the other one and saw it choke and clutch at its throat, skin giving way to ripping and lengthening muscle, its one wing becoming two featherless mucous-covered abominations. At first its cries sounded vaguely human, but as it transformed and became something different it glowed with a strange green light that was mako and yet different from mako and its cries became screeches. It was ill-formed, but its colors were beautiful and reminded him of the iridescent caves in Nibelheim. It wasn't difficult to kill the creature—it was in so much pain. So the Jenova cells in his body had destroyed the copy. Mutated it and would have eventually killed it had Zack not put it out of its misery. Genesis would have to find his cure elsewhere, as it was clear that Zack hair would not save him from the fate he was willing to drag the whole world down into with him. As the copy-turned-abomination lay broken and dead on the highway it glowed even more brilliantly. Zack turned his back on it, shook his head, and looked at Cloud. The adrenaline that had just rushed through him left him feeling even weaker.

"Angeal . . . what do I do?" he whispered to the night sky. When he looked at the creature again it was gone, swallowed up by Lifestream. All that remained was the faint trace of soft green shimmering light. He sighed and got back on the motorcycle, pausing for a moment to ruffle Cloud's hair fondly. Now that he knew where Gongaga was he was going to get there as soon as he could, fiery determination in his eyes. Something greater than his own self was leading him there and he trusted the feeling wholly and completely.

-x-x-x-


	16. Chapter 16

**Warnings: Spoilers for Crisis Core. In the summary, even. You know, I realized that only a few chapters ago. Whoops.**

**Author's note:**** I go three months without updating, then I update again in less than a week? Am I not the very definition of capricious? This is a pretty good-sized chapter, too. Over 5,000 words, even with the song lyrics thrown in. The last few chapters have been on the short side, so why not throw you a curve ball? Annnnd, it's almost finals time. I believe this fic-writing business may have something to do with that. Anyway, enjoy, and please do leave reviews. Especially if you've been lurking all this time, and I **_**do**_ **see you lurking, you lurking lurkers. Please? :3 I promise I don't bite . . . much. **

-x-x-x-

_Honestly what will become of me_

_Don't like reality_

_It's way too clear to me_

_But really life is dandy_

_We are what we don't see_

_Missed everything daydreaming_

-x-x-x-

Part Sixteen

-x-x-x-

"_The truth lies within each person. But even the truth seems suspect once it leaves their mouths . . ."_

Cissnei had said those words on the shore of Costa del Sol an indeterminate amount of time ago (it felt far away to Zack), but they seemed to matter more now to him than they did then.

The truth. It's something that seems resolute. Bold face, large font: a huge declaration with a ton of weight behind it. The truth might seem like a brick wall—no getting past . . . not when it's touted by those who rule with symbolic violence.

Before all this, before all of the pain and the secrets and the death, the truth seemed simple to Zack. In fact, when he was sixteen, when the war with Wutai was drawing to a close, many things seemed black and white. Before that mission (it seemed so long ago, like from a different lifetime) things appeared to be so concrete, but he failed to realize that he was walking over moving plates; they seemed to carry him fluidly, but all the while they were drifting him farther and farther out from where he had begun when he came to Midgar. It was naïve to think that things wouldn't change—he knew that now, couldn't escape it; things were changing around him constantly and nothing was guaranteed like it had been before. Angeal was guaranteed. Honor; faith; the importance of dreams—they were all guaranteed. Angeal made everything seem lofty and noble. He believed in those things in a world that didn't believe—that was his flaw, that was his downfall; it had not been that he was a monster. He was just a man who sacrificed himself for what he believed was the greater good, even when anger and pain clouded his sense of morality. But Angeal could never be "just a man" to Zack, because it was those beliefs he had instilled in his student that was keeping him alive; it was his belief that drove his every step, his every struggle. Even in a world that wanted to use him and spit him back up honor and dreams mattered because he had loved Angeal, had seen that such things could exist. The hero in him needed those things to breathe. If he stopped believing, the lab would have been his final destination.

-x-x-x-

_Traveling I only stop at exits_

_Wondering if I'll stay_

_Young and restless_

_Living this way I stress less_

_I want to pull away when the dream dies_

_The pain sets in and I don't cry_

_I only feel gravity and I wonder why_

-x-x-x-

_I could see you in the darkness, shadowing my steps. I knew you wanted to be seen, but I watched and waited. I didn't confront you right away because I knew, somehow, what you were gonna say. I could feel it in the air, the way your sadness came over me. I didn't understand why you had to be away from me. We had almost never been apart since the day you gave in to what you couldn't deny anymore. I took great pride in that, by the way; the great Angeal Hewley, man of iron will, caving in because of an upstart like me. _

_I thought you'd betrayed me. Sephiroth assumed so and never thought otherwise until you'd died. He never said so, but I could tell he felt responsible in some way for your death. He sent me to Costa del Sol so he didn't have to see me for a bit—get me out of his hair so he could grieve in his own way. Apparently he'd been piecing parts of the puzzle on his own time, neglecting himself in the process. _

_I came to you, both of us shrouded in the darkness of the empty Midgar alley. You smiled sadly. I called your name and I reached out for you, but you wouldn't bridge the gap. I never expected to encounter that wall between us again after you'd given me your keycard and had let me into your apartment and your life. My chest ached and questions, half-formed, spilled out in the way you often thought was both infuriating and endearing. But you only shook your head, so I asked why you were there and you told me because you had to "tie up loose ends". You told me to forget about you, to let you go. You said you had deceived me, not shown yourself to me in full. I told you that you couldn't have known what was gonna happen; after all, you didn't have a crystal ball, right? You laughed, but it sounded lifeless and it didn't reach your eyes. You got any idea how happy it made me when your smiles made your eyes soften? Yeah, I didn't think so. You were always so hell-bent on thinking you burdened me or whatever it was that you said. I never listened because it just wasn't ever true. _

_You were pushing me away. I had you—I finally got you and kept you and you were pushing me away. I was so angry. None of the things you said made any sense in that alley. It looked like you were about to attend the funeral of our love and I was pissed off. How dare you take the thing away from me that made me feel okay away from home? I know I pretended to be some cock-sure kid from a backwater town, but I was really desperate for someone to believe in me. No one took me seriously until I met you and you were taking that away from me. I was more than pissed. I hit you over and over again and grabbed at your shirt but you never fought back. _

"_Defend yourself!" I cried, feeling the resonance of those words. I know now that things had come full circle, that things always will. The worm enriches the soil so that the flower can grow and the bee takes the nectar from the plant so that he can reproduce and feed his clan and many animals eat the honey because it's sweet and when these animals die their souls return to Lifestream and their bodies nourish the soil and feed the worm. At least I think that's how it goes, right? Aerith told me something similar, about how everything returns to the planet so that it gets recycled. The souls of those who have passed on live, in part, within us and make us stronger in our times of need. Well, okay, she didn't quite spell it out like that, but it's what I gather from how I feel you've been watching over me and Cloud. _

_I'm still angry, you know. How it all went down. I know you feel you had to do it, but you broke my heart. You're probably out there somewhere beating yourself up for it, but still, you really did break my heart. Telling me we can never be together again? Brushing me aside when I tried to kiss you in my desperation? Come on, man, it was so unfair. I know you probably did it so that I could see how "monstrous" you were, but I never thought that, up until the very end. You were always an angel. You always gave me the things no one else ever could and I loved you. Yeah, that's right, I loved you Angeal Hewley. Me, the guy who flirts with everyone, the guy no one really takes seriously. But hey, didn't you once tell me that there's good in everyone, that people aren't bad, just misled? I see beauty in just about everyone. I'm no longer the gullible fourteen-year-old cadet who trusted everyone because he didn't know better. You _taught _me to love you and then you took that away from me. Just so we're clear, I'll never forget that, though I may forgive you should we find each other in the "vast stream of souls". Only maybe. If you beg pretty. Sir. Oh, wait, aren't we equals now? I take that back, then. _

_What was I saying? Oh yeah. Love. Monsters. Monsters can't love, Angeal; and you loved me. You said it and you meant it and I think you only tried to take it away from me to make it stronger in your misguided way. You really did try to tie things up. You came to me before that fateful mission in Modeoheim to tell me "sorry, kiddo, but we're through" and then you were there making me kill you. After we were through, so were you. I think you tried to prepare me for it. Okay, you definitely tried to. By making me fight that battle with the Summon and then breaking things off with me right before you told me to have at you. But what you didn't realize is that I would have to live with your death on my hands, and after that I was fighting your battles all the time. I'm your living legacy, sure. I feel your presence and I feel your influence shadowing every move I make, especially with Cloud. Sometimes I feel like I can feel you more when I feel for him. I don't know if it makes sense, but it's all connected. Bigger than us. Not in a cock-sure backwater hero-aspiring fourteen-year-old army-joining way. In a different way. A way that can't be labeled, can't be explained. Like a tug, I guess. One hell of a tug. _

Fate. Which is like Truth. Bold face, large font, bigger than all of us.

"And that's why we're going to Midgar," Zack said aloud. He wasn't sure how much of all that was in his head or if he'd spoken it to the wind (or to Cloud). "Because of this feeling in my heart. Because it feels right. Because it feels like we're getting closer to the truth. Or I may be losing it."

Gongaga ended up being more than one hundred miles away from that spot on the highway where he'd seen the sign because once Zack knew where he was he took exits and carefully traveled down less open roads. At first he was intent on getting there as soon as possible, but there was safety to consider, and Cloud had begun to thrash inside the sidecar of the motorcycle when Zack estimated they were halfway there. He had parked the motorcycle, half-hidden in the bushes, and unfastened the seatbelt around Cloud's torso, dragging his kicking and bucking body out of it, and pushed him onto the ground, palm over his mouth when he started to scream. He frowned down at him, watching those sky blue eyes reflect the storm that lay within him.

He had, unmistakably, cried "Zack". His name. Surrounded by "please", "it hurts" and "kill me". There was also something more about the strange presence within him. It had haunted Zack, so once Cloud had finally calmed down, he scooped him up in his arms and started to walk. He could hear the rush of water nearby, and sure enough, he could soon see a river. He settled Cloud down on the ground and he immediately curled up in a fetal position, gloved fingers curling and uncurling, grasping at nothingness, his lips forming silent words. Zack sighed softly, watching the pain and confusion there.

"Are you hungry, Cloud?" he asked, rubbing the younger man's side, taking hold of his fingers and watching them take hold of his too, gripping hard as if needing that contact for fear of death. He let Cloud grip his fingers until he slowly stopped trembling and then he smiled down at him, gloved fingers sifting through wind-tangled blond hair before tracing down wet cherub cheeks. Cloud still looked the same as when they had met, albeit thinner, frailer. When it was cold, his cheeks and nose still turned a rosy color, his pale freckles seeming to make his skin shimmer. When they had first met and Cloud had taken his helmet off, snowflakes caught in his golden eyelashes and slid down his face. His whole demeanor changed when Zack could get him to smile. He lit up from within like a candle casting shadows on pale white fabric. He was, well, angelic in several ways, like a child with old soul eyes. Seeing him so defenseless and dependent made him see that more than ever.

"It won't be my mother's cooking just yet," he whispered, "but where there's a river there's fish."

It wasn't the first time he'd fished on their journey, but this time he decided to voice things aloud as if he was teaching Cloud the technique. He hadn't done that before, but as time had gone on and he had to spend more and more time alone he liked to talk to Cloud as if he was addressing other people: Angeal, Aerith, Tseng, Cissnei, his mother, his father, and so the list went on. Cloud became the receptacle for his innermost thoughts and feelings, his history and everything he had ever learned.

"Teaching" Cloud how to catch a fish with only his bare hands and a good command over his senses made his mind wander back to Angeal. Of course, as a boy in Gongaga Zack had known how to fish (he did so often with his father, and like many Gongagan boys this time spent in the father-son bond was almost sacred to him), but to catch a fish with his bare hands? Now, that was something. It took him a good twenty times to finally get one that first time, too. The damn things wriggled and were slippery so that only the most careful of grasps held them. And as hard as it was to keep one, it was even harder to catch it mid-swim. He was better at it now; he had honed his skills and his legendary lack of concentration was less pronounced (he could concentrate when it was important). As clumsy and out of practice as he sometimes felt in what was probably the last few weeks, he was still Angeal's protégé, still a 1st class SOLDIER. He frowned as he thought about his inability to piece together his sense of time; it weighed heavily on him as if there was an hourglass hanging over his head counting down the time he had left on this planet. He shook the feeling away and took his boots off carefully. He rummaged around in the rucksack he'd taken from Shinra Mansion and laid out the leather roll-up, placing a gutting blade on it. A few more necessary items were prepared and then Zack sat at the lip of the river, rolling his pants up to his thighs. He trailed his feet through the water gently, splaying his cramped and bruised toes out. The feeling was soothing and the air was gentle. For a moment he felt relaxed, could feel the kiss of life taking away the weariness from his body and lifting his spirits.

When Angeal had first shown Zack how to fish this way, he remembered being in utter awe of him. He had been anyway, but it was their first mission together, and seeing Angeal in the field was a lot different from seeing him around the drab corners of the Shinra building and the surrounding areas of Midgar. He remembered thinking he wanted to aspire to be everything Angeal was. He was his idol, but he also wanted to surpass him. But in that moment on his first important mission with his mentor Zack thought that he would never be anything like him.

He had done missions before. They were often test runs or he was escorting people within the company to places so that they felt protected, but mostly he served as a symbol of Shinra, a silent (but fidgety) threat.

He didn't get to see a lot of action in those days. The company was divided then, split between those who were sent to Wutai and those who were home-based. Zack was home-based, and Angeal was therefore home-based as well. This first mission with Angeal was, in many ways, Zack's big break. He was promoted to 2nd Class shortly after. But that wasn't so important in the grand scheme of things. What had impressed itself on Zack's mind then was his devotion and fondness for Angeal. As the man stood there in the river, slightly crouched, pants rolled up and bare hands poised, Zack felt time stop. He remembered his heart thudding irregular beats, his cheeks growing hot as he realized, at that very moment, how close he had grown to this man. He studied the side of his face, memorized the way his lips drew down with concentration, and marveled at his masculinity. Zack was halfway into his fifteenth year then and he still felt a bit awkward, not entirely settled in his quickly growing and changing body. His voice still cracked sometimes at the most embarrassing of moments, and so Angeal's deep gravely voice was something Zack envied.

That first year Angeal took him under his wing Zack had shot up five inches. He no longer felt so very small around his mentor, and he had also turned from a gangly boy with too-long arms and slightly bowed legs to a young man who was lean but well muscled. Angeal often caught him staring in the mirror during his practice drills, and every time Zack was sheepish about it, but characteristically prideful in a way that wasn't annoyingly over-confident. The first time he'd been caught he recounted to Angeal how at home he'd built a gym in his house so that he could get in shape before he was recruited but that it was hard for him to gain muscle mass; but two weeks after his first mako injection at age fifteen he had come running to Angeal to laugh with elation that he had gained ten pounds of muscle. It had taken him almost a full year to gain ten pounds of muscle before he left for Midgar. But even still, he would never be Angeal's size. He would never be as powerful, as manly, or as heroic and noble. Never. Angeal could make him nervous. Angeal could make him doubt himself. But he could also make him feel stronger, more sure of himself. Every day around Angeal was a whirlwind of hormonal and emotional reactions made worse by mako and close proximity, hands on his body with the intent to improve form.

Zack was sure he had been thinking about all these things and more when he was watching Angeal crouched in that little stream. He'd had his shirt off, too, and well, the memory of his back under the sun still stayed strongly with him. Words like "perfect" and "beautiful" came to him. The man had been perfectly formed, inhumanly so. He was engineered—bred, really—to look like that, but it didn't make it any less marvelous. And when Angeal caught the fish it seemed to have almost leapt into his arms as if recognizing his magnetism. Clearly he had been in love with Angeal even then, though he would fully realize it almost six months later when he could no longer live in denial of what was happening to him.

But he didn't recount all these things to Cloud. He kept them inside, let them wash over him as he gently stirred his feet in the water. He let himself feel that familiar ache in his heart, that familiar yearning for the things, for the people, he could no longer hold onto because they were gone.

After a few more moments he waded into the water and turned to Cloud. He forced a smile, knowing it must not have reached his eyes, and turned back around. He imagined Cloud sitting up and wading out with him. He spoke to this imagined Cloud, told him to be quiet as Angeal had years ago, and waited, studying the ripples of the water, the sounds, and focused so that he could, in essence, become the water. Minutes later he caught a fish, arms wrapped around it, laughs filling the air as he turned and trudged through the water back toward Cloud, who was still in a fetal position, eyes staring past Zack unblinkingly.

"I caught one, Cloud! See? I bet you're envying my manliness right about now. I am Man, at one with nature!" he laughed, tossing the fish into a pot that he had filled with water to clean and prepare their meal ticket. "Who needs civilization, huh?" he said, beaming. And despite the hurt and the exhaustion, the smile reached his eyes that time.

-x-x-x-

_Flames to dust_

_Lovers to friends_

_Why do all good things come to an end_

_Flames to dust_

_Lovers to friends_

_Why do all good things come to an end_

_come to an end come to an_

_Why do all good things come to end?_

_come to an end come to an_

_Why do all good things come to an end?_

-x-x-x-

Gongaga seemed untouched by time. It was odd to see it again, like it had ceased to exist for him while he was away. He eased into the outskirts of the town with the bike, careful to make as little noise as possible, and parked it behind a crop of rocks and bushes.

"Cloud," Zack whispered as he got off the bike, kneeling by the sidecar, "this is my hometown; this is Gongaga. Look, we've been at this for a while, huh? You wait here while I go forward." He brushed back tangled blond hair fondly, stroked a smooth cheek. There was some dirt on his face and the tears that had rolled down his cheeks had streaked through it.

They had taken a detour to get here, but in his heart he felt that it was important. He hadn't seen his parents since he'd left to go to Midgar. He had sent some letters and some pictures, including a picture of him with one arm around Angeal's shoulder, the other on his own hip, cocky smile on his lips. He had made Kunsel take it for him. Angeal had his arms crossed over his chest, pretending not to be the least bit affected by Zack sending a photo of them home to his parents, but Zack could tell he was happy because he had asked him after he mailed the picture what he had written home about him. Zack remembered looking straight into his teacher's eyes and saying, in an excited voice, "I told them you were _badass_—a really awesome teacher and a really great friend". Angeal had scrunched his nose and raised an eyebrow, but he had laughed, and that laugh had reached his eyes. It was a surprise to Zack that, later on, he found out that Angeal had written home about him too (and had even confided his nickname to his mother). Angeal had never talked about having a mother, and he had only talked about his hometown if prompted. He would rather have listened to Zack go on forever than to talk about himself despite his show of great exasperation whenever his restless student opened his mouth.

"I'll be back," Zack whispered to Cloud, gently resting his forehead to Cloud's for a moment, petting the spiky hair once more, but as he started to pull away to leave Cloud's fingers clasped onto Zack's hands and he started to whimper, eyes seeming, briefly, to see him.

"Please," he whimpered. Zack frowned and pried Cloud's fingers away, placing them in his lap. Cloud resisted initially, but then he slumped in the car once more, whimpering quietly. Zack sighed and pressed his lips to Cloud's trembling lips.

"Shh," he whispered, standing. "I have to check things out. You know that." And when he turned, he looked up toward the Reactor. It seemed less massive than he remembered it. It was so foreign to him when he was younger. People in Gongaga barely even wore shoes and their homes were not made of complicated materials—a huge metal structure in their "backyard" was a strange and unsettling intrusion. But now it seemed familiar and Gongaga felt foreign. As he walked up the winding path to town he felt like an outsider, like he didn't belong here anymore. And as he looked back at Cloud he frowned, a strange underlying feeling of dread gripping him.

"No," he said to himself, shaking his head and stopping in the middle of the road. "I can't go to my house . . . I'd probably walk right into an ambush." He could still see Cloud when he turned around. "I'm just worried about my parents," he said, walking back over to him. He was still whimpering, still trembling. "I wanted you to meet her," he said softly, "but I dunno . . . I guess that's not possible. I don't know why I thought we could hide out here," he said with a bitter laugh. "But still . . . I want to know if my mom's all right. It's risky, but . . . should I go into town?" He paused, watching Cloud intently. His head rolled back and he groaned softly, seeming to calm down a bit. Zack took that as a sign. "Don't move," he said, knowing full well that Cloud wouldn't, and walked quickly and quietly into town. When he passed the Reactor everything was still and ominous. He proceeded with caution, but had a bad feeling. Maybe his gut had steered him wrong. Maybe he was about to get ambushed after all, parents' house or not. He took a step back, looking nervously back toward the road he'd come here on, and heard a voice call behind him from the side of a dilapidated building.

"Behind you," the feminine voice announced. Zack wheeled around toward the source. He had been expecting something, someone, but not Cissnei. He had been a fool. "So predictable," she said, arms crossed over her chest, head shaking. "Couldn't you guess your hometown would be the first place we'd look?" Despite her rigid stance and the arms crossed over her chest her eyes were sympathetic, but a little incredulous too.

Zack only humphed, eyes averted from her face.

"Here to see your parents?" she asked. There was a flash of something in her eyes. A bit of jealousy maybe. But perhaps something else too.

"Yeah, so?" Zack returned, eyes narrowing as he placed his hands on his hips, defensive right down to his body language. "What's wrong with that?"

"I see," Cissnei sighed, turning her head away from Zack as she paced along the path in thought. She peered up at him again, standing before him, and Zack could read what was in the depth of her eyes. A warning.

"Yeah, well," he sighed, "I guess you're right. It was pretty careless . . . coming here." He turned back around, casting her a look over his shoulder. "We'll be going," he conceded.

"Be careful," she said, voice softening. He stopped mid-stride, not turning back to look at her, but listening nonetheless. "Security is very tight right now. Apparently . . . another target is in the area." Target? Zack turned back toward Cissnei with interest, his mako eyes locking with her light brown ones, finding that they were once again sympathetic.

"Who?" he asked. Both his mind and heart supplied answers: one said Genesis, the other said Angeal. One was credible while the other was . . .

"Angeal," Cissnei said softly, head moving just enough, eyes focusing on Zack's. She caught the mild surprise in his face, the tiny outpour of breath and the way he tipped his head back just a bit. It was the barest of reactions. He stepped back a bit, brows furrowing as he studied the ground, seeing past it and into the curious way his heart ached.

"I see," he said, voice low.

"I see?" Cissnei repeated, watching as Zack turned away from her once again toward the side of the path. "He died by your hand," she said, as if he had forgotten and needed to be reminded, as if he _could_ forget. But Zack didn't react to that. It was just something he had been carrying on his shoulders; it was always there. "You're not surprised?" she pressed, her head craning forward as if, in her puzzlement, she was trying to _see _the answer. But Zack, his head tipping back toward the sky, was realizing something. All this time he thought Angeal was sending him messages from Lifestream, but what if he was closer to home? What if it had really been Angeal he had seen outside of the tube in the basement of the Shinra Mansion and not some figment of his imagination caused because he had really wanted him to be there?

"I . . . think he may have helped us escape Shinra Mansion," Zack said, voice low, pensive.

"Interesting," Cissnei said, considering it, one shoe scuffing at the dirt underneath her forefoot in an almost childlike way. "The sighting reports were true." There was something about the way she said it that made her seem relieved to Zack. Perhaps it was because she had witnessed Zack's raw emotion that night when he had lost Angeal.

"But why would he come to a place like Gongaga?" he sighed, speaking more to himself than he was to Cissnei, probably. But she answered anyway.

"He came to see you. What other reason could there be?" There was that same incredulous look, as if she couldn't believe that Zack wouldn't know that Angeal was and always would be his protector. Like the angels whose freedom she desired. Zack whirled around in a circle, looking around at the surroundings cliffs overhead.

"Run away if you can, Angeal!" he shouted, fists balled up. "The Turks are watching!" Cissnei only shook her head and sighed.

"I'll give you ten minutes. After that . . . I return to the Turks." There was meaning in her voice and Zack turned, brows furrowing.

"Return?" he asked. She shook her head, staring hard at the ground below her feet as she turned away from Zack.

"Right now, I'm not in the mood . . . I can't bring bad news to your parents." There was a slight frown tugging her lips downward, and even though her face was mostly turned away from Zack's, he could read something there in it that passed for fondness and compassion. Maybe even something beyond that. Zack didn't know what to do with that, so he fidgeted with his pockets and sighed.

"My mom," he said in a soft voice, "how is she?"

"She's worried," Cissnei shrugged, a smile curving her lips just slightly. "She thinks that, after all this, you won't be able to find a wife." Zack's brows furrowed even more and he shifted from one foot to another, shaking his head, body twisting a bit in his embarrassment.

"What's up with that?" he cried, feeling his cheeks redden a bit. Cissnei's smile grew a bit bolder.

"They're nice people," she said softly to Zack's back, "and they're doing fine."

"Good," Zack sighed. His mother hadn't changed. It was a strange feeling, but a good one, despite the embarrassment. It was all he needed to hear—that everything was okay, that they were still okay. He worried about his mother a lot, especially after he'd found out that Shinra sent out a message claiming that he was dead. "That's all I need to know," he told Cissnei, letting her share in his relief.

"Yeah," she said. It was so soft. So gentle. So sad. His lips twitched as he turned toward her once more, watching her, seeing the emotion in her eyes.

"How's your folks?" he asked. She had been helping him so much and he barely knew a thing about her. But he guessed it was supposed to be like that. She was a Turk after all.

"I was . . ." she looked hesitant, but she continued after a brief pause. "I was raised inside Shinra."

"O-oh," Zack said lamely, gloved hand moving through his hair, scratching at his head nervously. Sephiroth's face flashed through his mind. He'd been raised by Shinra. He was aloof, he was distant . . . Cissnei was like that in a way, but she was very tender, very caring. Sephiroth had been caring in his own way, but he had never been tender, and he had never felt comfortable around people like Cissnei did. She always wanted to help. Compassionate Turks, what was the world coming to? Then again, Tseng had been something like a friend once.

"Hey, Cissnei," Zack began tentatively, "would you mind . . . keeping my folks company for a while?" She had given them the motorcycle and had bidden them time, and he would lend her his parents. It seemed like a fair trade. Or at least it was the beginning of one.

"All right," she said sweetly, cocking her head. "No problem."

"They'll probably ask you to join the family," he laughed. And as Cissnei circled around him she laughed too.

"Already happened."

"What did you say?" he asked incredulously, eyes growing wide. She only smiled enigmatically. "Cissnei!" But she was already walking away from him.

"Not my real name," she called over her shoulder.

"Huh?" he called after her, utterly lost.

"You have five minutes," she said, disappearing behind the path as she walked off. Zack shook his head. He looked off in a random direction and caught sight of something in the distance. His eyes roved back toward it and widened once more.

"Angeal?" he called, disbelief in his voice. But there was no mistaking the white wing as it spread and carried Angeal aloft.

"Angeal! It _is_ you!" And just like that he forgot the strangeness that had just passed between him and Cissnei and entertained that somehow, someway, Angeal had made his way back to him.

"Hey, wait!" he cried to the spec of white, but if it was Angeal, he didn't hear him. And he stood there for a few moments and realized that he didn't quite know what to do. If it wasn't Angeal . . . he wasn't quite sure how he could handle that. But then again, if it _was_ Angeal, what would he say? What would he do? He still had Cloud to worry about and the army and the Turks at his back. He couldn't ask Angeal what he should do in this situation, and despite the soaring feeling in his head that was making him slightly dizzy and his thudding heart he was hesitant to believe it was possible that Angeal was still alive.

-x-x-x-


	17. Chapter 17

**Warnings: Still spoilery, still angsty, but this story now has a new summary! That is spoiler-free, even! And it will let you know the trajectory of the story better, too. It will be jumping from the end of **_**Crisis Core**_ **and straight into **_**Advent Children**_ **era, mostly ignoring what really happened in the movie in favor of more deep deep angst. I always feel like I have to apologize for this story, but then I am intentionally trying to make it even angstier than it already is, and I believe that requires an apology. **

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_Black is the color of my true love's hair_

_His face so soft and wondrous fair_

_The purest eyes_

_And the strongest hands_

_I love the ground on where he stands_

_I love the ground on where he stands_

-x-x-x-

Part Seventeen

-x-x-x-

There was only one thing to do, only one way to find out if it was really Angeal. Zack would always follow his heart, and though his head said, "hold up, this may be a trap," he needed to know. With his track record, he may encounter every single Turk he'd ever run into and then some, but his heart had to know. He just hoped that Cloud would be okay if he investigated a little more, but really, there was no time to doubt himself or doubt that what he was doing could possibly be wrong. As soon as he made it up the rocky face of the cliff overhanging his hometown—the one he'd been told as a reckless kid not to go on—he ran into trouble.

They looked like Genesis copies that had been fused with Shinra technology, and as they grabbed clumsily for Zack they chanted in unison about "S cells". Zack knew it sounded familiar, and as he swung his blade and beat back the copies, he could see Hojo's callous eyes, his lips moving to form "S cells" as he injected Cloud and watched him thrash like a dying animal. He could see Sephiroth knocking Genesis's proffered dumbapple from his hand and hissing "you will rot". He could see the flames of Banora and the flames of Nibelheim and they disappeared in a flash when the flutter of a singular black wing came into view. Instantly the copies stood at attention, but they continued to chant "S cells".

"His cells are completely useless," a familiar voice said behind him. Zack wheeled around, his eyes widening as he saw Genesis and . . . Hollander. It wasn't shocking to see the scientist at Genesis's side—after all, Genesis had been employing Hollander's help from the very beginning, but what Zack saw . . . what Hollander had become . . .

"You are a former member of SOLDIER," Hollander accused, his finger pointing. His eyes were silvered by degradation, a tiny black wing jutting out of his shoulder, half-formed. It wasn't the first time Zack wondered what had happened in his absence, but the questions gnawed at him nonetheless.

"Your cellular structure has already mutated." And there was such a look of dismissal in his eyes.

"Hollander?" Zack asked, addressing him and his sorry state. "You did it to . . . yourself?" his eyes settled on the wing and the way it sagged pitifully. How long had it taken him to degrade this much? Months? Years? Zack didn't want to consider the latter. He felt, in many ways, just as old as he had been when he leapt out of that Shinra truck with Sephiroth, Cloud, and Miles, but there was something deep inside him that yawned wider than a mere few months. He didn't want to consider it and pushed it out of his head. He was getting good at avoiding things so that he could carry on. Something inside him told him to push on and never really look back for too long or there would be consequences, and on the run with Cloud, it was best to keep moving ahead of those consequences.

"Yes," Hollander sighed, "after nearly being killed by Genesis it was really all I could do to survive. I merely borrowed some cells from Genesis." So the cells were keeping Hollander alive for longer than he would have naturally, but they were also slowly draining his body of all life and turning him into a living statue. Sephiroth told Zack once that the secret of Genesis's birth had been brought into the light one fateful day when the three friends had been sparring in the Training Room. Genesis had been wounded, but he would not heal—could not heal, not with any amount of curative materia. The tissue had already turned to something half inanimate—half alien. Sephiroth had offered to help his friend but had been denied. After that Genesis had started to degrade slowly and the knowledge of his past made him turn desperate, cloying, and dangerous. As Zack's eyes flickered from Genesis to Hollander he could see the desperation in their faces, could see their desire to keep living. Zack frowned and shook his head. For a moment he could see the child in Genesis. He could remember the photo he'd seen on one of Angeal's mother's bookshelves of Angeal and Genesis as children. In that photo Genesis was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. Not even Angeal had looked carefree then. His eyes looked older in that photograph, as though he had been forced to become a man too early. But that was what had made Angeal the man he was when Zack knew him, and even though he had been mostly serious, he had deep affection for both Sephiroth and Genesis, his childhood friends. He was the worst kind of worrywart—one with an unending stubbornness. Angeal never gave up on anything or anyone. But Zack's mind readily supplied "he gave up on us, and he gave up on himself". He shook that aside; it wasn't true.

_Angeal is here. He has to be._

He kept repeating it to himself, letting it go around in his mind on loop, wanting only to get Genesis and Hollander out of his hair.

Zack lifted his head, and, staring Hollander straight in the oddly milky eyes, pointed at his stony flesh.

"You know, you're . . . degrading." Hollander stared back, malice in his eyes.

"Indeed, but . . . there is still some hope."

Genesis, previously seeming disinterested, smiled coldly at Zack. "The gift of the goddess," he crooned, holding his ever-present dumbapple close to his chest. He looked down at it briefly, took a deep breath, and let his icy mako eyes pierce into Zack's. "A pure S cell sample will stop the degradation process."

"Pure?" Zack repeated. Those eyes seemed to be looking into him, that smile mirthless. This was a Genesis who no longer cared about heroism or honor, dreams or friends. This was a Genesis who only wanted to make everyone he'd ever known suffer because he had suffered. Zack nearly shuddered when the smile became fuller, when Genesis's full lips spread wider and brought chilling understanding to Zack's heart.

"There are two of you . . . on the run," Genesis began softly, eyes unrelentingly boring into Zack's. He paused, delighting in the way Zack's eyes widened.

"Uh . . . no," he said, stumbling back, his head shaking. Suddenly he could feel tightness in the back of his throat and a growing tension in his gut. But Genesis could see through him clearly, could see his fear. He wouldn't have the time to get to Cloud if there were Genesis copies looking for him. Genesis would make sure of that.

"One is a former SOLDIER operative, the other an infantryman."

"That infantryman carries within his body the last pure S-cells in the world!" Hollander cried, his pitiful wing carrying him up into the sky. The machinated Genesis copies disappeared with him and Zack knew then that Cloud would be in danger.

"Hey!" Zack cried after Hollander, and as his body propelled him forward Genesis only shook his head and held his hand out as if to say "first you must get through me". But that wasn't what he said. Not exactly.

"Do you know the verse in Act IV that leads into the final act?" he asked. Up close Zack could see the way Genesis's once rich auburn hair was being slowly stripped of its color, his eyes the blue of a cloudy winter sky—mostly gray, yet so glaring that it almost hurt your eyes to look at it. And there was so much hatred in those eyes. There was a time when Zack had once admired the way Genesis looked. He was a strange mix of feminine and masculine, as Sephiroth had been—beautiful in a way that let you know that that beauty was dangerous and powerful. Zack still had that feeling about Genesis, but his hate and desperation had made him a true monster, ugly because he had no honor, ugly because he was twisted beyond recognition. Though Zack could see glimpses of a wounded little boy in Genesis, those glimpses were washed away with the reality that Genesis was less than a man and that he embraced that.

"Of course not," Zack spat, his own eyes averted from the hurtful eyes of Genesis.

"_Legend shall speak; Of sacrifice at world's end_," Genesis recited, the leather of his gloves crinkling as he closed his fist tightly over his chest, looking into the sky far off. Zack stared off into the water far away on the horizon, his back to Genesis. "_The wind sails over the water's surface; Quietly, but surely_." Again those same lines. Anger burned in the back of Zack's throat.

"Enough about sacrifices and endings!" he snapped, not turning to face Genesis, though he could hear the man's heavy steps surround him. "I don't want to hear it!" It was then that he wheeled on Genesis, eyes full of so much weariness. Hadn't he had enough sacrifice in his life? Enough endings? He was sick of it. But Genesis only shook his head sadly at Zack.

"You're no longer Angeal's puppy," he said, the venom unmistakable when he spoke the nickname Angeal had been so fond of, the nickname he was coming to understand that Angeal had shared with everyone he had known. Zack narrowed his eyes, felt his heart clamber in his chest, and gripped the Buster sword. That may have been true, but a part of Angeal would always be inside him because he remembered and loved the man he was. Genesis looked like he would say more, and sure enough, he seemed to be remembering something. "You can no longer ask him for the answers you seek. He will not supply you with them." He easily dodged the swift swipe of the Buster and stared into those heated mako eyes with fearless craziness.

"You don't understand anything, little puppy," Genesis said mockingly, sadly, "least of all the beauty of _Loveless_." Zack would be happy if he never had to listen to another word of _Loveless_, but he could tell, regrettably, that Genesis would only dogmatically recite lines more and more each time they met, each time Genesis got in the way between Zack and his freedom.

"How tragic," Genesis laughed scornfully. "I'm not surprised. Even _I_ didn't understand all of it. The greatest mystery behind the gift of the goddess . . ." he paused to look back at Zack and smiled almost serenely. "The water's surface." A fanciful light played in Genesis's eyes. "And the answer I have arrived at . . . is the Lifestream."

"What?" Zack asked, confusion wearing at him. The Lifestream? Genesis was so hell-bent on making _Loveless_ the metaphor of his life, but . . . Lifestream, the river of souls . . . didn't one have to die to unlock that mystery?

"There are various theories regarding the missing final act," Genesis continued, "However, only my theory is correct." He smiled wolfishly and cradled the dumbapple in his hand once more, retrieved from his coat and pressed to his chest like a gift. "And I will prove it to you!"

"No," Zack countered, arm swinging out exaggeratedly, his eyes narrowing. "That won't be necessary." He wanted to shake Genesis. It was only a play, _only a play_! How could a play—a play whose final act was missing—dictate his life?! "They're only words, Genesis!"

"Hm," Genesis muttered, as if considering it, but then Zack lunged at him and with his great black wing spread out and flapping in the air Genesis floated up above Zack and let him catch nothing but the dumbapple. Zack sprung to his feet with the apple in his hand and looked up, but Genesis only smiled down on him, black feathers drifting down to the ground. "You will understand," he promised, flying out of sight.

"Damn it!" Zack huffed, staring down at the apple in his hand and shoving it in his pocket before taking off down and back toward the town. He had to find Cloud. He had to make sure he was safe. And if he wasn't . . . he would never forgive himself. He had been a fool to think that Angeal could have been alive. He must have seen Genesis. Only . . . he had distinctly seen a white wing. Was it wishful thinking?

-x-x-x-

_Oh I love my lover_

_And where he goes_

_Yes, I love the ground on where he goes_

_And still I hope_

_That the time will come_

_When he and I will be as one_

_When he and I will be as one_

-x-x-x-

Zack ran so hard that he almost tripped over his feet. For a moment it was almost as if he was a kid again, his mind moving too fast for his feet to catch up. When he passed the mako reactor he could see the Genesis copies swooping in to catch Hollander from what would have been a nasty fall. Apparently that wing could not hold him aloft that well, and as they set him down, he reached into his bag, rummaged around for something, and stepped carefully toward Cloud.

"Get away from him!" Zack cried, a surprising amount of emotion cutting through his voice. He started a charge toward Hollander, but a blur of white flew in from Zack's side, air rushing over him.

"A-angeal!" Zack cried, half the name getting stuck in his throat, clinging to his tonsils as if to say it too loud would banish him away. But something was off. Though Angeal charged in to protect Zack and Cloud, he could only throw his body into the copies and shove Hollander aside. But Hollander was stronger and he shoved Angeal in retaliation so that he stumbled and fell back onto his pinned wing, feathers fluttering as he scrambled back onto his feet and stood in the center, eyes scanning his three targets as if suddenly realizing he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Zack didn't dare look too closely at Angeal as he ran after Hollander, forcing him into a fight he knew the scientist could no longer escape. Even as he pinned him into a dead end the Genesis copies were abandoning the area and this time they would not bear the burden of his body—they had taken him to Genesis too many times before and they were harried, defending their own lives from Angeal. Zack glared at Hollander and unsheathed the Buster once more.

The fight didn't last very long despite the fact that Hollander kept summoning giant worms, wheeling around in circles and pleading for his life. Zack felt absolutely no pity for this monster. This man had ripped Angeal away from him and he would pay. He had knowingly kept the secret of his birth only to rip his humanity out from under him and now he would see the wrath of Zack's SOLDIER training. It was fitting that Hollander would breed Angeal to become a living weapon—a living weapon who would teach Zack all he knew. It was fitting that Hollander would die as a direct consequence of his actions. And as he drove the Buster into his gut Hollander choked out congealed blood as if he'd really been dead on the inside and was only just now being consumed by the reality. His hands grasped at the air and he slouched forward as if to lunge at Cloud, his dying mind still intent on the cells, but then he fell limp on the blade. Zack pushed his foot into Hollander's stomach and wrenched the blade free, his mako eyes softening only because the man was now dead and no longer a threat. And now that he was dead his mother's voice came back to him.

"_No one's ever evil . . . just misled."_

"_The road to evil is paved with good intentions, Zack. Just remember that the next time you intend to do something fun but end up putting the girl next door in danger."_

Hollander's body seemed to sag slowly down to the ground as if, even in death, he was fighting gravity, fighting his fate, and a green light overtook him. His fingers twitched, his body fell, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the light.

Zack watched until nothing was left and then turned back, making his way slowly toward Angeal. He was propped against the shrapnel of the broken down Reactor. His eyes filled with tears as he sheathed his sword, too overcome to clean it of Hollander's blood just yet. He shook his head as he looked at Angeal and forced the tears away, wanting to stay tough for him. Angeal had never shown his weakness. Angeal had always tried to stay strong for him. He had to prove to him that he'd grown up, that he could fight his own battles now, and that Angeal didn't have to worry so much about him.

"Now you're the one who owes me," Zack said.

"_That's one more you owe me."_

"_Oh, sorry if I caused your sword any wear, tear, or rust."_

"_You're a little more important than my sword. But just a little."_

He couldn't say it the way he wanted to, those words. He could hear the weakness in his own voice and he guessed that he just wasn't there yet—just wasn't able to live up to Angeal yet.

"It's been a long time, Zack," Angeal laughed. To hear that laugh again made Zack's heart feel too full. He laughed too. He never thought . . .

Even though he'd spent every moment after Angeal's death thinking about him or trying not to think about him and failing . . . he never thought he would get Angeal back. Not once. He thought Angeal had been gone forever and now that he was back he could feel himself starting to break down. All the weight that had been on his shoulders started to make him sag and he felt, deep down in his heart, that he wanted Angeal to be there to bear it with him. The tears slipped down his cheeks and he rubbed them away as he pulled out the apple that Genesis had left him, tossing it in his hand as he bit his lip.

"So . . . what happened? That thing wasn't so tough," he said, peering at Angeal. Why didn't he fight like Angeal? Why didn't he stand up and fold Zack up in his arms? Why didn't he call him hasty or scold him for trying to go after him when he should have been protecting Cloud?

And then his answer came.

"I can't fight like a 1st," the man who looked like Angeal said, his voice subdued by another voice that was layered over it. Zack hadn't heard it at first. If he looked truthfully into his heart, he hadn't heard it because he wanted it to be Angeal. But . . . "I'm just an Angeal copy," he finished. Zack turned his head to the side, his fingers digging hard into the apple. He felt his whole arm shaking and the apple trembled as if it was about to explode and that's when he let out the choked sob his throat had been waiting for. He stepped close, studying what he thought had been Angeal. Though his hair was a stark white, so different from the deep black he remembered, and though his clothes were different and the degradation was all over so that he looked like a ghost . . . it was still Angeal. It looked like Angeal, anyway . . .

"Copy?" he repeated, sounding broken.

"I'm sorry, Zack," the copy whispered, mouth tugging down into a deep frown as he stood. "It's . . . Lazard." Director Lazard, the former director of SOLDIER who had once been kind to Zack. He had been the one to personally promote him to 1st Class and give him his uniform. And he was the man who deserted Shinra after funding Hollander and Genesis in secret for revenge.

"O-oh," Zack said, taking a step back, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat, pushing down the surge of emotion that threatened to overtake him.

"I know that it can't be easy," Lazard said softly, keeping his distance respectfully, but Zack could see that the copy's fingers twitched as if needing to do something. Zack took a step forward and rubbed the last of the blurriness from his eyes and felt the rush of air as the Angeal copy scooped him in his arms and held him.

"Why?" Zack asked, sounding small and defeated.

"It felt . . . natural," the copy answered. Zack shook his head at that, stepping out of the copy's arms.

"The more I can separate you from him . . ." he whispered, his voice trailing off. But Lazard understood and nodded, his own eyes misting up a bit. Zack sighed, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes. There were no more tears but his eyes stung. Finally he straightened up, not knowing when he had begun to slouch, and sighed softly.

"So . . . so you're the one who helped Hollander out of Junon?" he asked. The copy looked a little stunned by the abrupt change in their conversation but he listened patiently. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"To exact my revenge, I needed Hollander," Lazard explained. Zack politely kept out of Lazard's business, but had one thing to say.

"You really chose the wrong friends, didn't you?" It was just like Zack not to judge.

"I agree," Lazard said, sitting down once more and staring ahead, away from Zack. "I never dreamed I'd be turned into an Angeal copy," he added, looking at his hands, now too large to be what he remembered as his own.

"Well," Zack sighed, "just be happy you're linked to Project G." The implicit understanding was that Lazard would have been dead long ago had he not been.

"It's a strange feeling," Lazard said, staring at both hands now, brows deeply furrowed. Zack made a small inquisitive noise beside him, urging Lazard to continue. Lazard curled his fingers and uncurled them, staring harder. "The lust for vengeance that had so consumed my life is all but gone now. In its place . . . is a desire to help you, a desire to save Genesis." He seemed to consider this and shook his head, his chest heaving a bit with the magnitude of his realization. Zack stared down at the ground, his own chest heaving for a different reason. "No," Lazard continued. "It's . . . bigger than that. I . . . I want to save the world." Zack looked up at the end and saw Lazard's arms stretched out in the air. Like Hollander's arms had been when he faded away from this world. We all have our dreams, big or small, wicked or good. Our dreams define us. Zack thought all these things as he took a few steps toward where he had defeated Hollander and unsheathed his sword, Angeal's sword, staring down at it and then at the apple. Angeal's dreams . . . Genesis's dreams . . .

"Nothing strange about that," he shrugged, turning back around to face Lazard, a small smile on his face. "Angeal lives inside you." In a way, he thought, Angeal lived inside everyone he touched with his passionate and caring heart. When people die, their souls stay with us in part to help us in our time of need. Zack was never more sure of that than now as he looked into eyes that held the shadow of Angeal's spirit.

"Genesis is trying to obtain the gift of the goddess," Lazard said, studying the ground, "but . . . what is it exactly?" He looked up at Zack and shook his head. "No . . . whatever it is, he must be stopped."

Perhaps Angeal was in there, in Lazard, there to help Zack in his time of need. He sighed, tilted his head back and rolled the apple in his hand.

"I just don't understand what he's talking about at all . . ." And then he turned to Lazard, and, squinting at the man, tried to see—really _see_­­—Angeal inside of him. "What should I do?"

"Angeal may show us the way . . . perhaps," Lazard answered, eyes soft. But they weren't Angeal's.

"Maybe," Zack sighed. "I hope so . . . Director."

"Heh," Lazard laughed softly, "'Director'. So, Zack, what is your dream?" It had been many years ago when he asked Zack this question, but by the look on his face Zack knew that he expected the same answer. He would have to draw on that passion to get through. It was Lazard's way of drawing on Angeal's ability to bolster Zack's spirits—Zack could see that—and he smiled.

"Let's see," he said, pretending to think about it. He stood straight, as if looking into his own dreams, and said, "to become a hero."

"Humph," Lazard muttered, parroting his old cynical self, "unattainable dreams are the best kind."

"Come on! Lend me a hand!" Zack cried, holding out his hand to Lazard, "You and Angeal both! If we pull this off, we'll all be heroes! At the very least, I'd feel like one!" And he smiled big, feeling more like himself again, feeling like he was no longer crumbling because, really, it wasn't Angeal who stood before him, but a piece of Angeal, and even he carried a piece of Angeal inside him too.

"So, Zack," Lazard said, standing beside him, "where is Genesis?" And it was then, with that one simple question, that a light went off in Zack's head. Genesis had told him that he would "understand", and as he looked down at the apple, he understood at least where Genesis meant to lead him.

Banora.

"I see," Lazard said, looking at the apple that was stretched out toward him.

-x-x-x-

_We're coming up on 15K hits for this story! When it does hit 15K I've decided to draw Angeal in his gardening garb. I started writing this story all based on the fan club mail you get that lets you know that Angeal reads gardening magazines. I'll probably draw something Zack/Cloud related for the 100th review (or perhaps Angeal/Zack/Cloud), so keep the reviews coming! Also, there is a poll up on my profile. Please, if you can, take the time to answer it. It's about the song lyrics that I weave throughout the chapters._

_Oh, and if you want to, look up the song "Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair" (the song used for this chapter) as sung by Nina Simone on YouTube. It's such a powerful song, almost as powerful as the opera song I had Seph listening to. Sorry for this long-windedness! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


	18. Chapter 18

I know I must have irked a few of you with the sudden mention of Tifa in the summary, but I promise you it isn't a big part of the story and though it is important in terms of the completion of the story, it is mostly one-sided. Poor Tifa. More on that later. I'm deeply sorry for the lack of updating for months, but real life intervened. I've had a busy last few months. For one, I acquired a highly stressful, but highly rewarding job as a caretaker for aging adults with developmental disabilities, school has become twenty times more stressful, and I've experienced some death in the family. Add to that my desperate attempts to become a runner (completed my first half marathon in May!) and you've got a jam-packed schedule. I hope you will all forgive me and continue to follow this story! I promise some more regular updates if I get some more feedback.

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_No Longer No Longer _

_What You Ask _

_Strange Steps _

_Heels Turned Black _

_The cinders the cinders _

_They light the path _

_Of these strange steps _

_Take us back take us back_

-x-x-x-

Part Eighteen

-x-x-x-

Ownership is a strange thing. All the most important things Zack had in life weren't really his to begin with, nor were they really things.

It was cold, approaching Autumn, maybe. The stars were brighter than he could ever remember them and between the roiling half-shadows of the translucent silvered clouds Zack could see silver hair.

_"Angeal gave you this, didn't he?"_

Zack touched his hand to his jaw where the scar began and traced his fingers over the deep lines. His hair got in the way, whipping furiously around his head, and though he was cold he refused to shift, or merely couldn't.

This had been a long, arduous journey, and somehow he felt as though he was chasing something as intangible as the silver of the half-formed languid tendrils of the night sky clouds.

He didn't own this mission. This was someone else's. Angeal's. Lazard's. Cloud's. And yet it was deeply important to him just the same. He might have joined SOLDIER to be a hero, to fight the battles that many couldn't fight on their own, but he also joined to find adventure, to see lands he would never have set foot on had he stayed in Gongaga. And now he was being chased by invisible ghosts across the planet. Those he met and fought alongside were dead, irreversible and irrevocably returned to their source, to Lifestream. Try as he might to cast them out, Genesis's words swirled around him like an orbiting moon. Lifestream . . . the gift of the goddess.

"And what do the stars tell you tonight?" a gravelly voice asked. Zack slowly came out of his trance to focus on the owner of the ship that Lazard had arranged for them. It was headed for the opposite continent, where Banora lay hidden in ruin. The air was bitterly salty and smelled of fish, which was perhaps the first thing that came back to him and grounded him in reality. Next he took in the sight of the fisherman, a former member of the Shinra Guard. He had lost his eye in battle and now wore a patch, though the scar peeked out of the patch's cloth and ran down the man's cheek. On that side of his face his hair was parted to cover the patch and the offending scar, but with the wind whipping his hair as furiously as Zack's, the younger man could see where his time served had touched him.

Behind the man's head the moon was glowing outside of the ring of a shadow. It was the new moon holding the old moon in its arms. The last time he had seen it he had been in Nibelheim, on the night of the fire. A shiver went down his back, and though he was not terribly superstitious, he could not get that night of horror out of his head.

"It's not so much the stars," Zack said, distractedly. The man nodded, seeming to understand. He had told Zack his name was Gabe, short for Gabriel, that he had lost his eye defending his wounded brother in arms, and that he no longer cared for fighting anything other than the sea, though he admitted to Zack that there was no fighting what was always going to win. There was certainty and peace in that, somehow, and Zack could understand that. Angeal had painstakingly tried to instill in Zack an inner peace, a center in which he could always turn from the roiling troubles of the planet to his inner calm. It wasn't always easy.

One of the things Angeal taught Zack was how to move slowly, purposefully, before he could move with speed again. Zack would whine, tell him it was too hard, that he couldn't move that slowly, but Angeal taught him that sureness and slow purposeful actions were sometimes harder than fast actions, and often those fast actions made in haste were actions that would cost far greater than what they were worth. In the end, not everything is about speed; some things are to be savored and prolonged.

_"When the muscles are lengthened and contracted slowly, the body is more attuned to itself."_

He remembered how Angeal moved in those moments, the way he tried to mimic him but couldn't. That such a large man could move with such grace often astounded him. And although Angeal taught him things like peace and certainty, he also taught him that nothing was ever guaranteed: life, love . . . those things could be swept up as easily as a ship at sea, and the inner peace came from the knowledge that one could control nothing.

But why then was Angeal so troubled that last year of his life? The Angeal he had known had simply been swallowed up by fear, contempt, and revenge. It was only when faced with the certainty of death that he found his inner peace once more. But the contradiction was in the fact that Zack could see where humanity—where SOLDIER—intervened and tried to control.

After all, we all want to control our own fates.

And perhaps, in a way, Angeal was controlling his fate by ending it. Slowly . . . painfully, but at all times, attuned to his body . . . and attuned to his misery, the unacceptability of his birth. Because, as he once said, we all have our hardships to bear. And perhaps Angeal knew about hardships more than anyone he could have known, though he didn't speak about his life much. Part of his grace was in accepting and appreciating all the steps he had to take to be what he had become. It only made sense that he would have trouble accepting that who he thought he was had been a lie.

But even still . . . to Zack, it had only been one more thing that Angeal had overcome.

"Why aren't you with your friends?" Gabe asked. He had pity in his eyes. Though he was no SOLDIER, he understood what the burdens of a soldiering life were, perhaps more than Zack. The Shinra Guard was expendable, the first line of defense. Gabe had probably seen more of his comrades die than Zack had. Perhaps that contributed to the strange innocence that the young man exuded.

Zack looked up at Gabe and seemed to come back to the present once more, smiling softly, though it wouldn't and couldn't reach his eyes.

"How is he doing?" he asked.

"Not much of a seafaring type," Gabe laughed.

"Never was," Zack recalled, remembering when he'd met up with Cloud the second time back in Junon. He was pale, his skin was clammy, and he'd tried so hard to appear fine, though it was clear that he'd been miserable the entire way from Midgar and would probably continue to feel miserable for several more hellish hours until the seawater air stopped blowing into his helmet.

When he returned below deck it was reluctantly. There was Lazard to deal with, and the specter of his former mentor and lover. Zack didn't even want to see the man, and Lazard could sense that.

"Believe me when I say I am sorry to know what should have been kept secret," Lazard said softly. Zack barely heard Angeal in the man's voice anymore, and he was thankful.

"Likewise, I guess," Zack shrugged. He sat beside Cloud, listening to the whimpers, watching his head thrash, and trying to calm the boy, however futilely, with hands that swept sweaty blond hair out of new mako eyes.

"I've heard of mako poisoning," Lazard sighed, "but I've never actually witnessed it. It must be hell."

"Yeah," Zack said, "it is." He might not have been put through it, but he'd been with Cloud every step of the way. There was a long silence between the two men, until Lazard noticed Zack staring at him from his seat on Cloud's cot.

"You and Angeal…"

"Yeah," Zack said, looking away. In the mostly dark quarters, Lazard could see shadows and the light of Zack's mako-enhanced eyes. Cloud's too. "So did he eat?" Zack asked, pulling the covers up under Cloud's chin.

"Barely," Lazard said, shaking his head. "He kept calling for you . . ."

Zack stared down at the sword that peeked out from underneath Cloud's cot and looked up at Lazard, his eyes taking him in, appreciating him for what he had done for both him and Cloud, for being given a chance to feel Angeal near him again.

"Thank you," he whispered. He'd noticed right after they'd left Gongaga that Lazard was favoring one of his sides, but materia was useless against degradation, and there was the lingering inevitability of what would eventually happen. Zack had stared with such intensity that Lazard looked away. He couldn't be what Zack wanted most, but he could sacrifice himself for what he knew was right. It was time, after years and years of being obsessed with revenge against his family that he step up and do what he was truly meant to do—help others at the cost of his own life. It was only a matter of time for him anyway, and something inside him, perhaps the very spirit of Angeal, told him that these two needed his help more than anything.

It was unsurprising when, later that night, Zack had settled into his cot, mako eyes casting soft blue light over them both.

"How much of him is there?" Zack whispered, eyes searching, fingers sweeping over cold stony features. There was so much hurt in his mako eyes.

"Enough," Lazard whispered back, arms circling around Zack to hold him near. Most of what was part of Angeal within Lazard was what he could only equate to gut feelings that weren't his own, thoughts and memories that, half-formed, plagued him. But for Zack's sake he could be Angeal right now. Needed to be. As the former director of SOLDIER, Lazard knew all too clearly that within each of its members was a child forced to grow up too soon. As strong as this elite force of men was, they were all simply young men, mostly teenagers, with boyhood dreams of becoming heroes. Maybe the role was forced upon them, such as in Sephiroth's case, but they all needed heroes of their own, men who could shoulder their burdens, and although Lazard was no hero, he could certainly shoulder Zack's burdens for the night in order to let the young man sleep.

-x-x-x-

No wonder no wonder,

Other half,

Strange steps

Heels turned black

The cinders they splinter

And light the path

These strange steps

Trace us back trace us back

-x-x-x-

Zack half expected Banora to be rebuilt from the ashes it had once been reduced to, much like Nibelheim had been rebuilt, but when they arrived, it was still very much the same as he had left it, only the dumbapples had begun to grow once more out of their own ashes, though they didn't look as full and glorious, and parts were uncovered he hadn't seen before. As he dragged Cloud beside him, he could feel Lazard land beside him heavily, still favoring his wounded side.

"Dumbapples only grow in Banora," Lazard said aloud as if only musing it to himself. It had been the reason they'd risked their lives to board the seaman's ship—if dumbapples could only grow in one part of the planet, then Genesis must have been giving Zack a very big hint as to where the source of his headgames were coming from.

"Why is that again?" Zack asked as he set Cloud down beside the strange curve of a tree. He was reminded of the apple orchard that had once surrounded Rhapsodos Manor, the largest of the trees where Genesis had buried the bodies of his parents. Genesis remained a strange mystery to him. How could he save what he didn't understand? Why had the SOLDIER killed his own parents? Because they had kept the truth from him?

"The soil here is special somehow," Lazard said. "Many have attempted to grow dumbapples elsewhere, but they can only mature in this region." Zack seemed to ponder on that a few moments more.

"Genesis was always carrying a dumbapple around. I should have noticed sooner." Upon inspecting the area some more, Zack found that this particular area had been unknown to him on his previous visit. It looked almost ancient, like it had been nearly untouched by humanity. For some reason he was drawn to it, but he knew exploring would simply take too long if he had Cloud with him. He looked back at Lazard, watching him set himself beside Cloud, his hand clutching his side.

"I don't remember this place being like this," he mused aloud. "Can you look after Cloud for me?" His eyes were sympathetic, but he knew Genesis would be here, and both Lazard and Cloud would only hold him back from discovering what he needed, whatever that might be. Lazard only nodded, waving Zack on. As he moved farther and farther away a gnawing guilt ate at him—he hadn't wanted to leave them there, and he had a strange feeling about the rough-hewn face of this cliff, but he knew he needed to be here, so he pushed onward. As he approached the edge of a cliff he saw a bright green light that nearly blinded him leading down into a rocky entrance way. Its glimmering reaches almost touched the sky. He marveled at it for a few moments before he saw an opening to a cave beneath him. His gut told him to enter and run away at the same time, even as he noticed there was no way to come back up.

"I guess I jump here," he said to himself. "No turning back after this . . ."

After he'd thudded to the ground, he looked around, brushing himself off. Where he ended up looked to be a stony path, glowing softly from an unknown source of light. Finally he noticed the hole directly in front of him, and went forward, suddenly in the midst of a stony hideout. He noticed a desk and was immediately drawn to it. Cut around it was a bookcase filled with various scrapbooks, two of which were open on the desk, along with some loose papers. The first scrapbook was mostly made up of newspaper clippings concerning the Rhapsodos family name. The articles went back as far as maybe a hundred years. Zack scanned the contents as if trying to find where Genesis had gone wrong, why he had done something as horrible as to kill the people who had raised him. When he got to the page the book had been opened to, he gently slid his fingers along the picture of Genesis as a boyof twelve wearing a prize ribbon. The caption read, "Banora White Juice, National Agricultural Contest. Manufacturing Department—Most Valuable Player." The article went on to quote Genesis to have said that he wished to share the fruit with his childhood hero, Sephiroth, who was his same age. Zack put the book down and took up the other book. This book hadn't been opened to any particular page, and when he looked at the cover it was obvious it had been written on by Genesis, though the script he recognized as belonging to the man was tighter, more practiced, as if it had been drilled into him. As Genesis had grown older, the ritual of writing had probably become less important, less of an obsessive perfection. There were other things to obsess over as a member of SOLDIER, more important drills. There was one other person's handwriting on the cover, and this one was small and less fancy than Genesis's, but clearly legible.

In big calligraphic letters Genesis had written "Destiny", followed underneath by his own signature, which was followed by Angeal's. Zack traced Angeal's signature, clutching the book to his chest for a moment. Zack couldn't imagine Angeal as a boy, even though he'd seen the picure of he and Genesis as young boys in Gillian's house. Partly it was because Angeal, though even still a young man at the time of his death, always acted older than he really was. He was sure that even as a very young boy that Angeal was just as stoic and severe as he was when Zack had met him.

Zack slowly opened the clearly well-loved book and found many clippings of articles centered around Sephiroth. The pictures that scattered the clippings of Sephiroth showed a bored, aloof, and sometimes sad little boy who never knew love, who was brought up by the trials of war, and who had cherubic little cheeks much like Cloud's had been when he had just met him. Between clippings there were some aspirations, some written by Genesis, some written by Angeal, and there were also some portraits signed by Genesis. One of the portraits was of Angeal's face, so detailed and so beautifully drawn that Zack's eyes became wet. Here were the dreams of two young boys who wanted nothing more than to become heroes, two young boys who were very close friends. Zack left the book open on that portrait and gathered up some of the letters next, which were not letters so much as various notes from Angeal, written hastily to Genesis.

**_"I'm sorry that Mother seems strange lately. She seems so sad . . . but she won't talk about it. It's probably about Father. When she looks at me, all I see is her sadness. I see her look at you the same way sometimes. Is that why you stopped coming around lately? Let's meet by the marigolds. I have to ask you something important."_**

**_"Genesis . . ._**

**_Haven't seen you in two weeks. Your mother says you've been sleeping in the orchards. I come look for you, but you're not there. Our usual spot? You know where it is and when I'm there."_**

**_"I heard about the fight. Why didn't you tell me? Tomorrow. Be there."_**

Zack moved a few more notes aside and found a book stuck with a few pictures inside. Genesis kneeling by the statue of a young armored woman. Angeal, with his back to the camera, tilling soil. A line of carefully planted marigolds. Angeal brandishing a wooden sword. Genesis running through a field, a tiny speck. Gillian showing off freshly baked muffins, looking sheepish. The pictures, the books, the letters, they all told the story of destiny. Why did it have to end up so tragically sad? It was clear that the two friends, though they came from vastly different families, drew strength from one another, and they in turn brought that strength into Sephiroth's life. Angeal later brought that same very strength to Zack. He pondered Genesis's obsession with destiny and Loveless for a few moments, but was interrupted by a voice drifting from a place that seemed close and yet far away.

"I told you," it said, "I would make you understand."

Zack went farther into the cave, head buzzing with Genesis's voice, Genesis's laughter, Genesis's crying.

-x-x-x-

So Genesis has ensnared Zack into the deep dark recesses of his mind. Trust me, it's a scary place to be. I'm sure if Zack had stayed looking at more of those books he'd find pictures of Sephiroth drawn by Genesis in compromising positions. But that's for a far lighter story. More angst to follow, I'm afraid. Hope you'll come back for more! Please spare a few moments to review if you enjoy the story. Oh, and I'd also like to take a moment to thank SilentTweek for the translations of Crisis Core's Japanese script. Until recently I've been working off cutscenes on YouTube and the English game script put up over at ShatterHeart, but for some reason the ending part of the game is left off ShatterHeart so I've had to switch over. I also work off the original FFVII game script hosted on Fortune City by Little Chiba. If it weren't for awesome people like them, this mess wouldn't be here.

'Til next time!


	19. Chapter 19

Desert Garden

A fanfic. by pixeled

-x-x-x-

_I'm up in the clouds_

_I'm up in the clouds_

_And I can't and I can't come down_

_I can watch and not take part_

_Where I end and where you start_

_Where you, you left me alone_

_You left me alone_

-x-x-x-

Part Nineteen

-x-x-x-

Eyes the color of sky blinked wetly. A mind weakly protested the light. All at once flashes of sky, the feathers of a white and black wing melding together, the clinical lights of scientists, and pupils went to pinpricks as mako flooded through veins. The walls, the stone walls, seemed to breathe, to shift, and the eerie silence became replaced by the sounds of waves.

Zack became aware of standing in the middle of a stark white hall, became aware that his eyes hurt, and that it hurt even more to look into the distance. At first, the roiling and twisting he could see in the far distance could be mistaken for Lifestream, but as the sound became nearly deafening in his ears, he realized that water was rushing for him, and that he had his back to a wall—that he was sealed, and as the water rushed at him with a crashing force, his eyes closed and he let the waves take him.

In his ears he could still hear the waves crashing, but the sound was quickly being drowned out by the sound of . . . flames? Zack had felt a strange sense of peace as the waves had crashed, as if everything had been cleansed, everything had been wiped out. But now as he opened his eyes he could see fire everywhere, licking at Nibelheim, licking at Banora. The rich purple of Banora Whites slowly turned black and charred just as Cloud's mother's face, so beautiful and sad, became nothing more than hollowed out blackness. In his ears the roar of fire became the screams of civilians, and eventually he could see Genesis's parents, hands linked, withering to blackened bones, their screams still echoing even as Zack stumbled and fell before a shimmering green pool. There was so much pressure in his ears that he choked out. He hadn't realized that he'd closed his eyes again until he opened them and saw the pool, the vast stone opening that dripped with liquid life force.

Something told Zack, as he looked down at his hands and slowly rose to his feet, that he could not trust his senses anymore. The strange pressure led him deeper and deeper through the maze of stone, and he felt heavy, his breath labored. There was a ringing in his ears that made him cry out, and just when his ears popped he began to hear it again, the strange crying mixed with laughter.

"Genesis!" he cried out, nearly stumbling again. His own voice echoed back to him, but the crying laughter only got louder. He felt weak, not at all like a hero, but he was here because of Angeal, because his mentor had wanted—and needed—to save his childhood friend. He continued to yell Genesis's name as he passed more radiant pools, and just as he thought he would receive no answer, the crying laughter stopped altogether.

"Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost. Wings stripped away . . . the . . . the end . . . is nigh." Genesis's voice, slow and sad, filled with tears. From far away Zack could hear the beginning of the song Sephiroth had been listening to in his office that fateful day when he had decided to take the mission to Nibelheim. Zack shook his head and boldly called out to the disembodied voice.

"Genesis! Why did you kill your parents?!"

The song continued to play even as the pressure in Zack's head increased, and this time it knocked him right off his feet with a force that made everything white and hot. When he opened his eyes once more he could see a flash of Genesis's face, and as a young child, he sat surrounded by books and tall bookshelves, staring out of long windows that, with ornate designs and tinted colors, reflected only shadows. There was the tide of voices yelling all around Genesis, the pile of books only growing larger, so that they buried him, crushed him.

Genesis's mother's face, cold and distant, reflected in the windows.

Genesis's father, absent, his face a mere splash among shadows.

_Little monster! Little demon! I'll tell you what you are—you're not my son at all. Watch your tongue, or I'll send you away._

Genesis, lying in the apple orchard, his fingers spread, staring up at the sky. Angeal, kneeling at his side, shaking him, his words unknown. But they brought a small sad smile to Genesis's lips.

It all faded to black and Zack slowly began to sit up, realizing that he was now in a small cave opening with a high ceiling and that Genesis was kneeling just a few feet from him, hands clasped as he stared up at a statue with a benevolent woman's face, the soft glow of almost liquid light emanating from a crystal the stony hands clasped.

"They were blissfully ignorant, both of them," he whispered, his back to Zack. He wasn't sure whom he meant, not until he elaborated. "Angeal, he strove to lift everybody's burdens . . . but he couldn't lift mine. Sephiroth . . . so sheltered from everything . . . how sad they both were. But their sadness was not my sadness."

"Genesis," Zack whispered, slowly lifting himself onto his elbows.

"My soul, corrupted by vengeance," Genesis said softly, apologetically, "hath endured torment . . . to find the end of the journey . . . in my own salvation." When he turned to Zack, the younger man could see that Genesis looked weary, almost a part of the stone walls themselves. He was almost colorless, cold like stone, but there were still tears glistening on his stony cheeks. But as Zack approached, the softness that had creeped into his eyes hardened like the stone of his cheeks.

"You're late," Genesis stated.

"_Loveless_ again?" Zack asked calmly, standing and walking toward him.

"The goddess . . . I had never heard her calling to me . . . she had never given me signs that my loyalty was appreciated . . . but Angeal . . . you . . .have succeeded Angeal's spirit," Genesis said, hurt in his eyes, "and carry a part of Sephiroth within you." The 'S' cells. Zack's eyes shifted away, feeling that something was about to snap within Genesis. But his voice was so calm now, so eerily calm. "Thus, the three friends are reunited once again. "This," Genesis continued, his hand sweeping toward Zack, "is my answer. The goddess has recognized me after all. _Loveless_," he nearly sobbed, the eerie calm breaking, "is reenacted."

Zack shook his head, and for the first time he truly pitied Genesis. Like Sephiroth, he was merely misguided.

"No!" he cried out. It was so obvious. "open your eyes, Genesis!" He had taken a defensive stance, feeling the hurt and confusion mixed with anger inside Genesis. He thought he could get through, but the stone wall was too great between them.

"When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end," Genesis said silkily, hand to his heart. Just as he drew a breath to continue, Zack spoke up.

"I-I've come here to help you . . ." But his words fell on deaf ears.

"The goddess descends from the skies. Wings of light and dark spread afar. She guides us to bliss . . . her gift everlasting . . ." And as he turned to face Zack, Genesis lifted his hand and with fingers outstretched, the crystal began to glow brighter.

"What is that?" Zack cried, alarmed. Genesis merely narrowed his eyes at Zack.

"The Gift of the Goddess . . . a heavenly boon found only in Banora." Now _this_ was the gift? Zack just didn't get what was going on here. First the strange mind tricks, now this . . .

"I thought the cells were the gift!" Zack cried in frustration. Genesis shook his head and laughed as if he were speaking to a very small child.

"There are various interpretations," he explained. Zack's brows furrowed. He was trying so hard to understand what Genesis wanted, what he needed from him to be saved, but his head and his heart were hurting.

"I don't understand . . ."

"To ponder the mystery is in itself a gift," he whispered in response. It occurred briefly to Zack that this is a sentence that Genesis must have repeated to himself constantly as he grew up worshiping a goddess who did not answer his prayers; that merely to worship her and pray to her was a gift in itself. Surely it had helped him, or he would not have continued to pray to her, to worship her, and to seek meaning in his life from these words.

"We will all join the Lifestream," Genesis said softly, and as he took in a breath, he looked at Zack pointedly. "You . . . are no exception." As Zack looked around, the shining pools he had seen before, the crashing waves he had heard, and the rippling fires all came together to form the vision of the Lifestream leaking from the crystal. "The planet," Genesis whispered, "has become my guardian. The goddess . . . has finally answered my prayers." And as Genesis unfurled his black wing and channeled the energy from the crystal Zack slowly watched as Genesis's eyes flashed with a power too great to harness. He thought the goddess was accepting him, making him a part of something greater, a part of his destiny gleaned from _Loveless_, but Zack, though knowing little of what was truly going on, could clearly see that Genesis was dying.

"Keep talking to me," Zack cried, trying to bring Genesis out of it, out of the seductive call of the Lifestream, "Don't let it take over! You're not a monster! You're one of us." 

_You little monster . . . you're no good. I've never loved you. You were never my child. _

Genesis, as power sang through him and life coursed away, felt his eyes well up with tears. The power drained out of him, he collapsed, resting on his sword.

"My soul," he whispered weakly, "corrupted by vengeance, hath endured torment," and his voice sobbed over the word torment, "to find the end of the journey . . . in my own salvation . . . And your eternal slumber." When the light of the crystal rotted away, Zack could see that the stony white and gray had been replaced with Genesis's former self, but he was so weak now he could barely hold himself up. This was, however, not what Zack noticed the most. For the first time the words resonated in him, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Does this mean . . . you knew? From the beginning?"

Genesis, as a little boy, had known he would grow up to truly become a monster. His mother had told him everything carelessly, her heart bitter. Genesis's parents had had a loveless marriage, their son, a loveless life. The only friends he would ever know . . . had been monsters as well, and he knew, from the beginning, that they would be taken away from him.

-x-x-x-

So here's my own little interpretation and my own little projection, based off Genesis's puzzles. Instead I wanted to do a labyrinth of the mind type of deal. Let me know what you think.


	20. Chapter 20

Warning: The following part of Crisis Core has been edited to include character death that was not a part of actual in-game events. The previous chapter hinted at it, and here it is in full swing. I'm sorry?

-x-x-x-

_And on I read_

_Until the day was gone_

_And I sat in regret_

_Of all the things I've done_

_For all that I've blessed_

_And all that I've wronged_

_In dreams until my death_

_I will wander on_

-x-x-x-

Part Twenty

-x-x-x-

_My friend, do you fly away now? _

_To a world that abhors you and I? _

_All that awaits you is a somber morrow _

_. . . No matter where the winds may blow . . ._

Zack looked sadly at Genesis as he watched him struggle to lift his blade, his breathing loud in the stony room. He watched as the drained man slowly collected himself, brought hardness and focus into his eyes—they had seemed so weary only a moment ago. This was SOLDIER—on the brink of death, still willing and needing to fight. But for what? It didn't need to be this way.

"Stand and fight, SOLDIER 1st Class Zack!" Genesis commanded, hand outstretched, brows pinched. Once again, it became clear to him that this battle would have only one outcome, as the battle with Angeal had had only one outcome. Zack shook his head vehemently. His shoulders sagged and for a moment, he thought the incredible pressure had returned. His heart felt heavy, his mind a mess. Not again, his brain kept supplying. Not again.

"Why is everyone . . . always pushing things on me?" he whispered. It sounded loud in the space between him and Genesis. He didn't want things to end this way, but as he looked up into Genesis's eyes once again he could see the hurt there, the guilt that could never be erased, and as he drew the Buster sword, Genesis's eyes flashed with something that looked like deep regret. Between the flurry of blades, both men had their own visions, their memories linked through what Genesis would call destiny.

"You're holding back," Genesis gasped. "I want a real fight—one deserving of that blade you wield." By that point, Genesis had sustained several critical wounds, and he was nearly doubled over. He had clearly begun heavy defensive maneuvers, all of which lacked the usual flamboyance of his movements during battle. Zack held off out of pity and mercy, but perhaps it was the right thing, the _honorable_ thing to end this all here.

Zack swallowed hard and advanced on Genesis. There was no fear in the man's eyes, just a terrible weariness, the glow of mako dim now. Each breath he drew sounded wet and painful. Zack closed his eyes briefly. He could still hear Genesis's breath, but Angeal's face flashed in his mind.

_Then what should an angel fight for, Zack?_

_Honor can be quite a burden . . . at times._

Opening his eyes, he could see Genesis rush towards him, his terrible yell echoing throughout the vast caverns of the caves all around them, and it was with some sort of effortless out of body grace that Zack moved his arms, swung his mentor's blade, and drove Genesis flying through the room to crash to the floor like a rag doll. For a moment, all Zack could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, but then he heard the soft sobs emitted from Genesis's throat. Slowly the man reached his hand up, outstretched, toward the statue of his beloved goddess. As Zack approached, he watched Genesis's icy blue eyes become wet with the tears of a lost child. They searched his goddess's stony face as if imploring her with his very soul. It was obvious, as Zack knelt by his side, that Genesis was seeing something not of this world, with one foot still in this plane, and the other in the Lifetsream. His chapped lips opened a little, the tears spilled onto his cheeks, and his fingers, so determined, received nothing.

The choked sob of a child left his lips, his chest began heaving more, and he shook his head.

"No, nonono, no," he whispered. "Don't abandon me . . ."

Zack frowned and took Genesis's outstretched hand, but Genesis's chest continued to heave with panic. Around them, the statue began to crack along the goddess's cheek, spreading down her middle, and then fell apart. Zack shielded Genesis from the dust and particles and then, slowly, lifted him over his shoulder, heedless of the blood that began to soak his already dirty uniform. He carried Genesis through the maze of caverns, stopping only once to look up into the sky that showed through the cracks in the ceiling.

The goddess had abandoned Genesis in his final hour, and as he slowly died now, she had turned her face away from him. But Zack would be there. He was no goddess, no Angeal and no Sephiroth, but he would be there. He would make sure that Genesis didn't die alone.

When he had returned to where he had left Lazard and Cloud the sun was nearly gone from the sky and the night was descending. Cloud was propped in a chair, slumped over in it, his eyes wide and staring into Lifetsream, perhaps. Zack set Genesis's nearly lifeless body against one side of it, and, making sure he was comfortable, stood back up and noticed that Lazard was propped on the other side of the chair, breathing shallowly. He knelt by him, staring into the eerie copy of his mentor's face. The light was very dim in Lazard's eyes, and he appeared to have no strength left.

"Shinra attacked us," he whispered hoarsely, his head straining, as it was clearly hard for him to look up.

"Save your strength," Zack whispered, eyes searching Lazard's. But the man turned away from Zack and pointed into the near distance, where a huddled form covered by a white wing lay.

"I got some help. From him . . . over there," he gasped, falling back against the chair. Zack's brows bunched together as he looked, slowly focusing on the form that lay at the base of a Banora White tree. As he rose onto his feet and walked over, recognition dawned over him and a sharp breath escaped him.

"It's you," he whispered to the beast. He could remember it silently standing vigil in the rafters of the church in the Sector Five slums, the way it had selflessly defended both he and Aerith. He covered his mouth, stricken by sudden and overwhelming grief. Here was Angeal's true spirit, here his mentor's true protection, and the beast was dead. He had been silently standing vigil this whole time. Zack began to sob, the tears he'd been holding onto from his fight with Genesis released. And as the sun sank deeper into the valley, just on the horizon and still sinking, he heard a dying breath and turned his back to the dead beast, the spirit of Angeal, to see Lazard's body slump.

"Director!" he cried, going to his side. It was too late. Both were dead. He reached his palm out and traced the features of his mentor's—no, Lazard's—face, and took in a long, shaky breath. It was like Angeal was dying all over again. He felt, at least for a little while, that he wasn't truly alone, and now, as he cried without restraint, he searched the darkening sky. Was he alone? Was he kidding himself? Was Cloud never going to return to him?

He shook his head furiously and stood shakily, looking down at both Angeal copies.

_Allllways stay positive, son. When one door closes, another one opens._

He could practically see his father wagging a grease-spattered rag at him. He was always fixing up a vintage car or two. It was his passion, though he rarely left Gongaga.

_We're never alone, Zack. I'm lucky, because when I close my eyes at night and I'm laying in bed, all I have to do is breathe deeply and let the voices come to me. But, you know what you can do? It may be hard, but you're SOLDIER. Maybe, just maybe, if you close your eyes and concentrate _really_ hard, you can feel them. Sometimes, if I search hard enough? I can feel my mother. Someone always watches over you, Zack. I'm sure, right now, your friend is with you, right here, in your heart._

"Thank you," he whispered to them. Though Lazard was no longer here, he had done what he wanted to do. He hadn't saved the world or anything, but he helped Zack, helped save Genesis, and helped save Cloud. Zack would be eternally grateful. As he stared at them all he got an idea and nodded his head as if they could all see what it was he was about to do. He walked off and, finding the largest and most mature of the apple trees, climbed up it as he had done to the trees in Gongaga as a child, and picked one for each of them. He didn't know why, but it just felt right. This fruit was clearly special; it was meant to be shared with the ones he loved. When he deposited an apple in each hand, he raised his up.

"Okay, let's eat," he said, voice steady, full of strength he never could have had if he didn't have people watching over him. "Sorry I'm not the real thing, but . . ." And he took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

"Is it good?" Genesis whispered weakly. This whole time, he had struggled to continue living, as if something unfulfilled had not yet happened. He didn't have the strength in his limbs to lift the apple to his mouth, but the memories that it brought him made him at least lift the corners of his mouth into a small smile.

"Yeah," Zack answered softly.

"The gift of the goddess . . ."

"This apple?" Zack asked, looking at it in the light of the glowing moon. He noticed some movement from Genesis and looked at him. He was shaking his head.

"Huh?" Zack didn't know what Genesis meant.

"Angeal," he whispered, looking, with guilt in his eyes, at the side of Lazard's—no, Angeal's face. "The dream . . . came true." And as Genesis whispered these words, both bodies of the Angeal copies began to glow and dissipate into a green light, with all that remained being a few white feathers. Zack watched as they drifted past him, swallowing hard. Genesis, capturing one of the feathers, clutched it to his bloody chest.

"Angeal," he whispered, "you deserved . . . a better friend." And just as Zack was about to protest, Genesis's fist opened and the feather fluttered to the floor, his eyes, full of so much sadness before, now took on a strange peace as they slowly closed. His chest heaved no more. Zack looked away, and caught a glint of something white. On the floor, where the Angeal copy had lain, he saw a piece of paper and knelt to pick it up.

**How are you? **

**I wish I knew where you were. It's already been four years now. This is the 89th letter that I've sent to you, but I don't even know where to send them anymore. I really hope that this final letter that I am writing gets to you.**

**By the way, the flowers are selling very well. They make everyone so happy—thanks to you, Zack.**

**--Aerith**

While he read the letter, he recalled Aerith's face, her sweet smile, and how she had been so patient with him, accepting, silently, that they could only be friends, as if she knew his heart belonged to someone else. He had never discussed Angeal with her, but he knew, in some way, she had known. Call it a woman's—no, an Ancient's—intuition.

He shook his head, reading the letter over again, trying to make sense of it.

"Four years?" he repeated. The possibility of it having been four years since he had last seen her echoed in his brain, at first seeming impossible . . . but . . . when he had considered all that happened since Nibelheim . . .

The strange limbo of timelessness shattered the instant he absorbed those words. As he looked at Cloud and tried to search for signs that time had advanced he saw nothing. Cloud looked the same as the day they had set foot in Nibelheim, when he was sixteen years old, still a mere cadet at the same age Zack had been a 2nd Class SOLDIER. That would make Cloud twenty-years-old now, and him twenty-two. Another dull ache resonated in his chest, and as he looked at the letter once more, he caught the word "final" and, dropping the Banora White apple, looked up at the sky.

"What do you mean, 'final'?!" he shouted. The sky did not answer, and the burned remnants of Banora remained still. "Aerith," he sighed, "wait for me . . . not gonna let any more people down." He wheeled toward Cloud, took a deep breath, and with a hardened resolve, lifted the younger man's arm—no longer in his teens now—and hoisted him up over his shoulder. "You're gonna make it too. You got that?" And as he turned to walk toward the Buster sword planted into the dirt, he turned just slightly to nod in acknowledgement of Genesis. He had done what he could for the man, and figured out, in part, what had driven him, what had led him astray. And he had also given him peace. That was enough for Zack, and he hoped it would also be enough for Angeal. The three friends would reunite in Lifestream. One day, he would also reunite with his lover, his mentor. But for right now, he breathed deeply, collected and sheathed his sword, and began to walk away. But as he did so, the light of Lifestream came to collect Genesis, to bring him to his final resting place. Zack rested Cloud on the ground gently and watched as Genesis's body began to lift and slowly disappear into little beams of light.

A paper drifted slowly down onto the floor when Genesis was gone, and Zack gently lifted it.

**Even if the morrow is barren of promises**

**Nothing shall forestall my return**

**To become the dew that quenches the land**

**To spare the sands, the seas, the skies**

**I offer thee this silent sacrifice.**

"_Loveless_, huh?" Zack whispered. He folded up the page, and, along with Aerith's 89th letter and the tattered paper that held Aerith's wish, he let this important paper be deposited in his pocket as well.

Silent wishes, silent sacrifices. Zack considered the words and looked at Cloud's face as he shifted him. Nothing would forestall his return. He had too much to live for, too much to fight for. This last meeting with Genesis had shown him that.

-x-x-x-

So, Gen is dead. I wanted to change this part up a bit because, honestly, I wasn't happy with the way Squeenix treated it. And, also, I did not like DoC one bit. It ruined Vincent's story for me, personally. I just pretend that game doesn't exist. And anyway, I thought it would have been better if Genesis died. Sadder, of course, but better. I like feeling sorry for my villains.

So now I know what you're thinking. "OMG THE NEXT CHAPTER IS WHERE ZACK DIES OH NOEZ". Not true! I mean, yeah, it's pretty much on the horizon, but first I'm gonna have you wade through some more traveling, some more Zangst (Zack angst, yes), and some more memories. I'm really twisting the knife in, here, folks.


	21. Chapter 21

It's been a while since I've updated, so it's only fair I update and let you know I haven't forgotten about this story, though it pains me to near Zack's death.

_Traveling I only stop at exits_

_Wondering if I'll stay_

_Young and restless_

_Living this way I stress less_

_I want to pull away when the dream dies_

_The pain sets in and I don't cry_

_I only feel gravity and I wonder why_

-x-x-x-

Part Twenty One

-x-x-x-

It had been days since Zack had stopped to eat something. He felt feverish, weak, and nauseous beyond being able to throw up—not that he would have anything to throw up anyway. He was covered in dirt and grime from the road, and his lips were so chapped and his throat so parched that any amount of river or pond water would not slake his thirst nor stop his lips from splitting.

A blessing of SOLDIER is that those who are imbued can go weeks without food, can eat and drink things that could kill normal humans. Traveling through back roads allowed Zack to sneak through the cover of night into small towns and scavenge garbage cans like a desperate dog.

Tonight was a night of scavenging. Sometimes he could find the carcasses of animals that were not picked clean by other predators, or sometimes he could find a hare or a feathered leathery reptile to kill, but there had been nothing for days. And the last thing he'd killed tasted strongly of mako, so much so that it'd barely been edible.

It was the weakness that'd finally driven him closer to humanity. And Cloud was growing thinner, refusing more food. Zack was afraid that Cloud was dying—giving up because his body was failing him. He understood that he was still a fugitive and that anyone who might spot him would probably turn him in—not because he was wanted by Shinra, but because everyone was poor and desperate these days. But it was getting very difficult to carry or drag Cloud along in this weakened state, and he needed Cloud to survive, now more than ever. He hadn't carried him this far to leave him behind now.

He'd left Cloud with his sword and his armor and pulled his blanket over his shoulders like a cloak. It was almost the dead of winter now, and even with mako coursing in his veins and seasoned training under his belt, the cold still bothered him in a way that was almost ingrained. His hot breath sliced through the cold air, producing misty clouds. The first time he'd witnessed the phenomenon as a cadet it'd been during roll call and he'd been so excited that he'd spoken out of turn, without requesting permission from his commanding officer. He'd been given the penalty of twenty push-ups and had to suppress his joy when, after exerting himself, he could see steam rising off his hands, the misty breath clouds coming faster now, and getting larger. It felt like forever since he'd been that wide-eyed teenager romanticizing adventure and war. He knew now what it was like to look a warrior from another land in the eye and kill him—take away his dreams, shatter his future. Clearly, it hadn't been what he expected. There was no romanticizing that. There was no feeling of triumphing over evil in the brief time he spent in Wutai. Those men he fought against—they weren't "bad guys" and he was no hero for killing any of them in battle. Still, even now, he was driven by that long ago dream of becoming a hero. But it was hard to believe that a hero would go through people's garbage.

He found a good amount of meat and some half-spoiled potatoes—enough for a stew, but he would have to get far away first so that their fire would not be spotted by any hunters venturing in the woods. He stuffed his findings in his sack, slung it beneath the blanket that was draped over his shoulders, and made to leave toward the woods once more when he sensed someone nearby. He froze, shrinking back into the shadows. He didn't have to wait long—whoever had been curious enough to peer down toward the communal garbage dump was not curious enough to linger, and when the presence was gone, Zack slipped back onto the street. Where he was, there were no people, only the bitter swirl of the wind as it blustered against the sides of buildings. He should have slipped away unseen, but he could hear laughter and music in the distance, snippets of conversation a normal human would not have heard. The awning in the distance read that it was a tavern—a good ol' country tavern, at that.

_In two days Zack would be driven by his father nearly seventy-five miles away from his remote home of Gongaga to the nearest train station that would be taking him to Midgar to start his new life. Now, however, he was having a heart-to-heart chat with his dad. Of course, this is not what his father called it. He heard his mom telling one of the neighbors—a woman his mom was good friends with, that his father was going to be having this heart-to-heart "mantalk" with her son. He could hear her nearly choking over the words. So he had been forewarned. Still, it didn't make the moment any less awkward._

_ Zack's father was a man of very few words. It was his mother he mostly talked to—she was the conduit that brought the small family together, delivering messages between the two men in her life._

_The "heart-to-heart" chat wasn't of much substance._

_"Come sit with me, son," his dad said. They'd both been working on an old motorcycle. His dad had instructed him to grease up the chain, and had been watching him. Zack thought it was a little weird the way his dad was looking at him—a pensive kind of look, but then he knew "the talk" had been coming. Zack stood and placed the cloth on top of the motorcycle seat and wiped his hands on his work pants as his dad brought a cleaned out glass bottle previously used for milk which now contained a mysterious clear liquid, plus two small glasses. He set the bottle and the two glasses on the workbench and sat down at it, gesturing at Zack to sit beside him._

_Zack smiled nervously at his dad and cocked his head at the bottle._

_"What's that?" he asked. _

_"Well, anyone old enough to join the Shinra Guard is a man," his dad explained, taking the bottle and pouring some of the contents into the two glasses. They were too small to contain water, and this made it apparent to Zack that the liquid was indeed alcohol. His dad then handed him one of the glasses, clinking his own glass with his son's before downing the contents, his adam's apple bobbing, and a tiny grimace forming. Zack had seen men drinking hard liquor in the movies—seen how they would shiver a bit, take a quick grimacing breath as if the liquid burned their esophagus on the way down. His dad had barely reacted, and so he took the shot with confidence, downing it like a proper man. He nearly spit it right back out, his dad patting his back and smiling fondly as his son swallowed with a disgusted expression. The burning sensation was warm and the taste was like how rubbing alcohol smelled._

_"Moonshine, they call it," his dad laughed fondly. "My son's first drink. Try to get that in Midgar."_

_ Zack rifled through the pouch that held his gil. He was pretty low on coins, but he'd gotten by on nearly nothing this whole time, mostly to keep a very low profile, but also because his source of revenue was cut off. One stop couldn't hurt, could it? He was covered mostly, and he looked dirty enough—and probably smelled enough—so that no one would __really _look at him and give in to his request so that they could rush him out. It was with this conviction that he wandered into the tavern and asked for a bottle of moonshine. These types of drinks, made illegally, were usually sold for dirt cheap. And, for whatever reason—perhaps its raw nature was to blame—moonshine was one of the only hard liquors that could truly make a SOLDIER become intoxicated for any amount of time.

He was treated like an urchin—like something so disgusting that it must be treated with hasty caution. The trade of bottle of moonshine for gil was made like a terrorist operation. He caught his reflection briefly in the wall of bottles, distorted by their roundness—dozens of images of his face staring back at him smudged with grime, hair greasy and stringy, yet still sticking up in much the same manner as he'd restyled it after Angeal's death. He could barely stomach it, holding the bottle to his body under the blanket-turned-cloak like a lifeline as he made his way out and back into the woods. He had a moment of panic when he returned to Cloud, as he always did. Inside the small rollup tent he laid out his conquests, including the small bottle of liquor he'd procured. He ran his gloved fingers over the pieces of meat first, picking the maggots off and sniffing at it. He popped a piece into his mouth and chewed gratefully. He gently scooped Cloud up and propped him up, feeding him a morsel of the meat. He had to physically open up Cloud's mouth and push the meat inside, tempting him to chew by closing up his mouth and massaging his throat—for some reason, even if it was subconsciously, Cloud understood that Zack meant to convey to him that there was food in his mouth. This initial prompting was met, then, with independent chewing and swallowing. It was a strange and intimate practice that made Zack feel less alone.

"I owe you a drink," Zack said softly, grabbing the bottle and pouring some of the liquid into its cap, cradling Cloud's head in his palm as he tipped it back and allowed the small amount of liquor to pass the younger man's lips. Cloud reacted typically, his slack face forming a grimace for a brief moment as he swallowed reflexively in response to Zack's gentle touches. Zack laughed, pulling Cloud into his arms and letting him lean his dead weight against his chest, and stroked his dirty blond hair. The laugh gave way to a bit of a choked sob, which he cut off by taking a long swig of the bottle. The heat he felt in his belly spread to his fingers and toes and he felt warmer, fond memories his only true companion. Nobody had ever looked at him like the men in the tavern looked at him before. Not Zack Fair: golden boy, charmer. And Cloud was still like this.

Ever since revisiting Banora Cloud was strangely silent. Previously Zack had heard whimpers, caught words, sentences murmured as if in a fevered stupor. But now, if it wasn't for the warmth he felt emanating from the body against him and the soft breathing, Zack could almost believe the younger man was dead—no longer inside there, struggling to come back to him. At least that was how Zack justified taking him all this way. Cloud was still there inside, desperate to return to him. He truly had to believe that, even now. Especially now.

It might not have been a good idea to sleep there during the night when they were so close to the village he'd shown his face in, but Zack was so tired, and Cloud's breathing was rhythmic and strangely soothing. His rational mind just didn't have the strength to argue with his physical sluggishness.

_Zack awoke with the sensation of being held in someone's arms, but not just held . . . enfolded, as if a baby in the arms of its mother—comforting, reassuring, like a womb. Those arms held him tightly, and as he looked up at who held him, he grew smaller and smaller._

_ First he was wrapped up in the arms of his mother, her kind face ravaged by age and worry for her son, her only son gone to find glory in war, who was now a fugitive on the run. Each new wrinkle that showed on her face, each tear that slipped from her eyes, he knew he was responsible for. But her face gave way to Aerith's, soft and pretty like the flowers she grew in the slum church. Her smile was genuine, the strength in her eyes and in her heart surprising and fierce. And she gave way to eyes that looked stony and ancient, and though Aerith's eyes hid a secret agelessness, these eyes were timeless in a way that made Zack feel the strength of a goddess. With each switch he became smaller and smaller, farther and farther away, yet tightly wrapped up in arms that circled him still. The last switch was to that of a creature more than a woman, eyes sentient, radiating extreme power and malevolence as well as searching acceptance. It was as though her security came with a price most were unwilling to pay. Her skin was a pallid color so glaringly stark as to appear the mottled color of death and decay, and her irises were a burning red color, her lips an inky black. The arms that encircled him were no longer arms but the feathered black wing of Genesis—the same wing, only infinitely larger, and as it encircled him, it swallowed him up. All he could see were the inky lips of that terrible creature._

Zack woke up in a sweat and packed up his things, grabbing Cloud by the arm and slinging him over his shoulder. He wandered like that for days, feeling a tightness in his throat, his memories buffeting him through the worst of the loneliness, through the worst of the repetitive landscape. Through dirt road and winding trees, through pessimism, and through laughter and tears.

He ran barefoot, skinny dipped in cold waters, smiled and cried at the same time, and pretended he was carefree. He fashioned a walking stick with his knife, he told himself he was an ancient warrior discovering new lands. He told stories out loud and ran in circles to get dizzy and fall in the dirt. He made himself dirty in mud and told Cloud he was the god of the boars. He wore the pelts of hares he chased down with his bare hands, getting better at tricking them each time.

When he killed animals he touched their trunks and placed his hands upon the ground, marking it with their blood. He poured their blood over his face and made war markings.

He was going insane for want of humanity when humanity had made him excommunicated.

But every time he lost sight of himself—every time he felt frayed and losing touch with who he was and all his sanity, there was a hovering presence he felt. And in the rain and snow and mud he could feel rebirth and fullness where there was death and emptiness before, as if something—someone was bringing him back in circles to who he was, who he was always meant to be.

During those winter months he saw things in the trees, tricks of light, images in the puddles beneath his boots. And Cloud was strangely quiet, gaunt and sickly pale. He feared he might lose it, and lose Cloud.

But it was in his despair that his hope was renewed over and over. It was in the resurgence of life around him as the winter began to shed its cold grip that pushed air into his lungs once more.

Soon it would be Spring. He could smell it in the air, feel it in his lungs. And they were getting closer. He was chasing something as he moved quicker, feeling lighter, catching glimpses that faded away as he got closer.

"Cloud," he whispered one day when he could see the landscape was changing again, that the land was opening up to them, exposing them with rocky hills, sparse grass, and puddles of muddy water. "We're close to another village, and I have a plan." He laid out the rest of his gil and counted it all out loud, satisfied that it was enough. He took Cloud's head in both hands and beamed. "I've had a lot of time to think about it. Let's get cleaned up."

He carefully laundered their clothes in the stream he'd stumbled upon and sat with his toes meandering through the water as they dried, picking at the leftover meat from the fish he'd caught using his bare hands. He still wasn't as good as Angeal, who had seemed to sense and thank the fish even as it seemed to leap into the very hands that would bring its death, or rather, its return to Lifestream.

_"Always thank the life you've taken to feed you. Nothing is permanent, and as this fish returns to Lifestream, so too will you. We're all on borrowed time doled out by the goddess."_

Zack remembered the eyes of the goddess from his dream, silently evaluating him as if to appraise his time on this planet.

"So, yeah, I was gonna tell you my plan, yeah?" Zack resumed. In the winter he'd almost given up on speaking aloud to Cloud, but now he was feeling more like himself, less like a crazy person drinking moonshine and running with pelts on his back. He laughed at himself. "We've been through a lot, you and I. I wonder if, when I tell you all of it, if you'll believe me. Part of me thinks you'll think I'm crazy. Part of me knows I am. And anyway, I'm excited! 'Cuz this next town we're coming up on? It's Kalm, man. We're within one hundred miles of Midgar!"

Zack washed his face vigorously and happily as he told Cloud the good news, shaking his shoulder and whooping.

Part of him knew this would be the most dangerous part of their journey, and the other part of him didn't care anymore. He was so close. So close to freedom.

"And you know what, Cloud? I'm spending my last remaining gil on getting us a ride there. How does that sound?" He was still beaming, even as Cloud's head rolled from side to side.

It had been Angeal he'd been seeing in the trees, just out of reach, tugging him along. He was going to make it. Angeal was going to take him there. He was sure of it.

-x-x-x-

The next chapter, sadly, is where Zack will die. And the fic. is nearing its end. After the next chapter we're shifting into Cloud's perspective for a little bit. I hope you guys haven't given up on me or this story even though updates have been slow lately. I promise I will finish, though I'm not the best at regular updates.


End file.
